


The Mutagen

by Tobiiiaaas



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park Series - Michael Crichton
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiiiaaas/pseuds/Tobiiiaaas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 11 years since anyone has heard anything of the fateful Jurassic Park. A new Biotech corporation has arisen with the sole intention of changing the natural world as we know it, masked by a public promise to find the cure to cancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FIRST FRACTION

FIRST FRACTION: The Mutation Gene

Isla Muerta - Site C, 2012

He was sprinting, the torrential rain was pounding his skin as he skidded through the squelching mud. He could hear the tumultuous roar of the beast coming closer and closer and knew it was impossible to outrun it. Already he could smell its putrid breath, it was almost upon him. His heart was thumping, his complexion pale and terrified as he careered through a hedge and led the beast on. He winced; his chest aching agonisingly. His mind was telling him he had to keep going but his body was resisting, he would not be able to run for too much longer. He wasn’t an athlete nor was he a particularly good runner and now in this crucial moment of his life he knew that his body was about to fail him and the consequences would be staggering. The creature roared again, the deafening sound reverberating all around the miles of overgrown prehistoric jungle. He threw himself behind a tree-trunk over twenty feet in diameter and knelt, cowering in the mud. As he heard the creature stamping in his direction his whole body shook with fear. The beast would hear him, it would know he was there, but still he could not stop his body from shaking uncontrollably. 

He closed his eyes, clenching his fists. He sniffed the air and was met with the stench of the creature’s breath. It had found him at last. He opened his eyes and stared defiantly in to the unfeeling yellow eyes of the beast. For ages there seemed to be an impasse between them, neither making a move upon the other. Then he felt a soft pain in his side as the creature’s claws enclosed around his body. As he was lifted into the air he felt at peace, knowing it would soon be over. The rain fell on his face as he rose higher and higher. He took a long deep breath as the claws relaxed their grip and he toppled in to the beast’s gaping mouth. The jaws clamped shut, the razor sharp fangs tearing into his flesh like knife through butter. He was still alive, but he did not scream nor make any other sound. The jaws opened and seconds later they closed again, tearing more strips from him. He stared up at the fangs, dripping with blood, and knew that the next time they pierced his body it would be the end. He prepared himself. They came down towards him in slow-motion and as the tip of the largest one penetrated his skull, his life was extinguished. The creature chewed his remains some more and then swallowed. It bellowed its victory to the night-sky. A high-pitched shriek answered in return and the creature unfolded its wings tucked neatly upon its back. It took flight, soaring high above the trees and foliage. The monstrosity searched high and low for the source of the answering call but could never find it. 

***

Montana

Dr. Alan Grant gave a heavy sigh as he emerged from his camper van into the cruel outside of the Montana desert. The sun was shining brightly but the high winds made it impossible for any digs to be carried out. All outstanding digs had been covered by tarpaulin to protect them from the changeable weather.  
“Alan! Hey Alan!” Dr. Grant cocked his head in the direction of the voice. He smiled as he recognised the new arrival.  
“Ellie!” He cried out, visibly pleased to see his old friend and colleague. “What you doing here?” Ellie had arrived now and threw her arms around him passionately.  
“I heard you were back out here,” Ellie replied letting go of him. “And I fancied a vacation.” She laughed warmly. Grant looked up at the sky warily. The sun had disappeared behind an ominous black cloud and the whole area was becoming overcast and dark.  
“Let’s go inside?” Grant suggested, holding the door open to his camper van for Ellie. Ellie walked through the open doorway gracefully and with a final look at the sky, Dr. Grant followed suit. 

***

MutaGen Industries, Boston, Massachusetts 

“This is the pinnacle of scientific development in the 21st Century,” said Professor Richard Henderson, the CEO of MutaGen Industries. He was in the midsts of giving a presentation of his latest developments to the watchful crowd around him. “With this powerful chemical agent devised and created by the scientists here at MutaGen,” he continued, “we can take control of the natural world.” Out of the corner of his eye, Henderson saw a hand rise swiftly into the air. He nodded curtly.  
“And why exactly would you want to take control of the natural world?” Dr. Ian Malcolm inquired dryly. Henderson considered this for a few seconds before replying.  
“To study it. To learn from it.” Malcolm laughed coldly.  
“But by changing it you would be do the exact opposite,” Malcolm pressed.  
“I’m afraid you have me at cross-purposes here Dr. Malcolm,” Henderson said with stern determination in his voice. “I said take control, not change.” Malcolm laughed again and already a few of the other members in the auditorium were beginning to pay ample attention to the eminent mathematician.  
“But you must realise that to take control you must first change,” Malcolm said simply. Henderson fell silent, thinking.  
“Thank you Dr. Malcolm, no further questions please,” Henderson said after long consideration. He returned to his presentation although he was visibly put off by Malcolm’s interruption. With a deep sigh, Henderson clicked over to the next slide. “This agent is a simple combination of two chemical compounds as well as the DNA of the animals we wish to experiment on.” Malcolm coughed derisively.  
“Control not change. Ha!” Henderson ignored him.  
“Once the compound has been fully tested and verified by our supercomputers we can then proceed to the third stage of the process,” Henderson flicked over to the next slide. There were gasps from members of the crowd. He smiled grotesquely, shaking his dark frizzly hair out of his eyes. “We take a pregnant adult female and inject the compound into their bloodstream. This will then result in a genetic mutation in their offspring.”  
“Who are you to mess with the genes of nature?” Malcolm called out. His eyes were narrowed and his expression thunderous. “I’ve seen too many scientists like you before Professor. Too eager to patent and package the natural world as their own without stopping to think about the consequences.” Henderson raised his hand to silence Malcolm.  
“Thank you Dr. Malcolm that will be all,” Henderson turned away from him once again. “You may be wondering what sort of advantages these mutated young will offer us? Well to put it simply, the cure for cancer.” There were several more prolonged gasps from around the auditorium. “When these mutated young reach adulthood we will be able to take a sample of their blood and analyse it for the bacteria we need.” Henderson beamed, obviously pleased with himself.  
“What sort of animals are you looking at?” said a young male voice from the crowd. Henderson peered at him.  
“Dinosaurs,” he said with a broad grin etched across his face. Malcolm groaned.  
“You people,” he said with a harrowing sigh. “God must look down on you and cry.”  
“I didn’t ask your opinion Dr. Malcolm,” Henderson said cooly. His patience with the mathematician was wearing thin and he’d just about had enough of his snide comments and rude demeanour. Malcolm was unperturbed.  
“And where exactly were you planning to find these dinosaurs? Dinos died out 65 million years ago or didn’t you get the memo?” Malcolm laughed. Several other voices chuckled. Henderson’s eyes flashed scarlet.  
“I should think that you of all people know exactly where I’ll find them,” he said, regaining his composure gradually. Malcolm knew. He just didn’t want to broadcast the fact that he knew.  
“Site A was destroyed and Site B has been labelled an area of significant ecological value,” Malcolm said simply. Henderson looked directly into Malcolm’s eyes.  
“But no one knew about Site C,” he said with a greedy glint in his eyes. “Not even John Hammond knew.”  
“Don’t. Just don’t.” Henderson laughed.  
“Hammond was an idiot! A blinkered fool!”  
“He made mistakes but at least he learnt from them in the end. John Hammond had a dream.” Malcolm had become particularly defensive of John Hammond since the former CEO of the now defunct InGen Corporation had died some four years previously.  
“I have my dream,” Henderson replied.  
“What is Site C?” Malcolm asked abruptly.  
“Top secret. A backup plan in case both Site A and B were compromised,” Henderson said darkly.  
“How did you find out about it?” Malcolm pressed. Henderson laughed.  
“I can’t divulge that information Dr. Malcolm.” He cleared his throat. “Would you mind meeting with me later?” Malcolm looked briefly taken aback by this. “There’s something I would like to discuss with you privately.” Henderson checked over his shoulder as though paranoid he was being watched. Malcolm nodded. “Shall we say, the Saloon Bar, 3pm?” Malcolm nodded again. He turned and walked away. 

***

Montana

Grant reached into the fridge and drew out a bottle of champagne. He popped the cork out with ease and poured the liquid into two small glasses, handing one to Ellie.  
“How’s Mark?” Grant asked, taking a sip from his own glass.  
“Very well thank you,” Ellie replied although her demeanour was suddenly formal. “He’s at home with Charlie,” she added as an afterthought. Grant couldn’t help thinking that something was not quite right but he knew better than to press the matter. “How about you Alan?” Ellie asked. Grant exhaled heavily.  
“Things aren’t great,” he said grimly. “The dig’s almost run out of funding and if this weather doesn’t improve soon we’re gonna have to pack up for the season. And who knows what we’ll miss out on if we leave it for another year.” Grant was becoming more and more disillusioned these days. He distrusted large corporations but couldn’t afford to fund a season long dig off his own back. He needed something, a miracle. The telephone started to ring. Ellie was closest and answered.  
“Dr. Grant’s phone, how may I help?” She said in her most deliberate phone voice. “Uhuh. I’ll pass you over,” Ellie held out the receiver to Grant.  
“Right. I see. No, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Not at all. No, I’m sorry,” Grant placed the phone back on the hook. Ellie stared at him. His face was white and gaunt as though he had been reminded of a painful memory.  
“Who was that?”  
“Just some jumped up scientist,” Grant replied. “Wanted to know if I’d be interested in joining an expedition set up by MutaGen Industries.”  
“An expedition?” Ellie asked delicately. “Where to?” Grant’s brow furrowed.  
“Isla Muerta,” he informed her with deep foreboding in his voice. Ellie didn’t need to ask where that island was. She and Grant knew of it, although they had never been, due to its infamy among the locals of Costa Rica. Isla Muerta was one of the Las Cinco Muertes, or The Five Deaths and for generations it had instilled a sense of fear in the people of Costa Rica as well as many visiting tourists. Ellie had never been to any of the islands in the forbidden chain but Grant had. Eleven years ago, Grant had been tricked into accompanying a couple to Isla Sorna as they searched for their missing son. He had vowed never to return or set foot on any of the adjacent islands as long as he lived.  
“What sort of expedition?” Ellie said suddenly. Grant realised that the man hadn’t explicitly said. This made him feel all the more uneasy about the whole thing.  
“He didn’t say.” Something wasn’t right about that, Grant thought. He shrugged it off. “I don’t suppose it matters. He asked, I declined. They’ll look for someone else.” As he said this the camper van began to shake as huge gusts of wind and sand enveloped it. A low rumbling noise was emerging from somewhere over in the distance. Ellie pulled back the curtains and looked out over the vast desert in search of the sound.  
“Are you sure about that?” She said and in spite of her own misgivings she laughed.  
“What, what?” Grant asked. Ellie beckoned him over to the window.  
“Come and see!” She called. Grant stared out of the window and at last he too saw it. The approaching helicopter. Ellie and Grant looked at each other and burst into fits of giggles. The copter settled down on a small patch of clear land not too far from where Grant’s camper van was situated.  
“Dr. Grant! Dr. Alan Grant!” A man was calling through a megaphone to them. “Dr. Sattler! Dr. Ellie Sattler!” Grant and Ellie pushed open the door and strode towards the man calling for them. “Dr. Grant, Dr. Sattler, I have a proposition for you,” said Professor Henderson. 

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Second Fraction

Second Fraction

The Saloon Bar, Boston, Massachusetts 

Ian Malcolm leant unsteadily on his walking stick wincing slightly from an ancient pain. His once dark hair was now grey and the unavoidable signs of ageing had caught up with him. Malcolm did not mind. He considered himself lucky to have made it into his forties when you thought about some of the situations he had gotten himself into over the years. If he wasn’t lynched by a raging mob of mathematicians apoplectic with rage at some of his more controversial theories then it had seemed he would meet his maker staring down the snout of a reconstructed tyrannosaurus rex on a remote island off the coast of Costa Rica. Malcolm had survived that particular encounter but only just. He still felt queasy at the thought that another few hours and Ian Malcolm would have exited Isla Nublar in a body bag. Yet only four years later Malcolm had found himself in mortal danger again; this time on the precarious island of Isla Sorna, the aptly named Site B. He coughed dryly. Malcolm had few regrets by this stage of his life and what little he’d had as a young man were long since put to rest; but despite his bravado there was one regret that even a man as reserved and melancholy as Malcolm could not banish from his thoughts. The regret was quite simple. Sarah. Sarah Harding, Malcolm’s ex-wife, another ex-wife to add to the ever growing list. Malcolm sighed as his thoughts drifted over to Sarah again, wishing there was something he could do to change the past and hold on to the only woman he had truly loved. The end had happened four years ago. Malcolm had become obsessed by a new hypothesis that would potentially prove the undeniable accuracy of chaos theory. After first hearing about it from one of his students, Malcolm had begun to study it day and night. Some days he would go to the college and not return until the evening of the following day. At first Sarah had put up with it, she knew how much it meant to him; but even Sarah, the most patient of women, had soon had enough. She had had enough of being second best, of Malcolm paying her no more attention than he would a teacup and most of all she had had enough of his constantly changing moods. It would depend on how well the days research had gone but one minute Ian Malcolm would be almost jumping for joy in his ecstasy, the next he would lock himself in his study morosely perusing paper after paper and barking angrily at anyone that tried to disturb him. Malcolm did not realise how untenable the marriage had become until it was too late and so on the 19th of August 2008, Sarah Harding packed her bags and moved out of the house that had been her home for eleven years. 

“Don’t do this!” Malcolm had cried out when he realised what Sarah was doing. His eyes flashed with more explicit emotion in those few minutes then he had shown her in a year.   
“I can’t take it any more Ian. It’s always going to be the work over me. I can’t be second best any more, not to anyone,” Sarah had replied with tears streaming down her cheeks. Malcolm had then placed his hands on her face and stared straight into her swollen eyes.   
“I promise you I can change,” but Sarah fixed him with a determined look and had replied,  
“No, Ian. You can’t,” and in that instance Malcolm had known she was right. He couldn’t change his ways no more than a leopard can change its spots. So in the end it had been he, Malcolm, who had let Sarah go. She had only made the first move that nudged him to his senses and as she had been driven away in a taxi she looked back at Malcolm’s silhouette, watching her in the doorway of their home. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him. Malcolm wheeled around to find himself face to face with Henderson again. 

“Ah there you are!” Henderson said delightedly. “My apologies, I’ve rather been caught up in it all today,” he laughed a low fake laugh that was presumably meant to endear himself to people. Malcolm was neither impressed nor fooled.   
“What was it you wanted?” Malcolm replied cutting straight to the chase. Henderson seemed momentarily taken aback as though he had not expected Malcolm to be quite so unapologetically direct. He regained his composure easily but was still clearly riled by the fact that Malcolm could so easily derail him.   
“I have a proposition for you Dr. Malcolm,” Henderson said in a low whisper, checking over his shoulder to ensure they were not overheard. Malcolm had an inkling he knew what the proposition would entail.  
“If it involves going over to that island, I can tell you now that the answer is no. Not in a million years.”   
“Dr. Malcolm, I have arranged for a team to go over to the island and check on progress-” Malcolm’s eyebrows raised dramatically at this.  
“Hold on, hold on. What do you mean, progress?” He asked. “You’re not telling me you’ve already used that monstrosity of yours on some dinos?” Henderson smiled enthusiastically.   
“That is exactly what I’m saying Dr. Malcolm.” Malcolm swore loudly causing several people to look over to their corner and tut derisively.   
“What do you need this team for?” Malcolm took several deep breaths to calm himself.   
“There have been some teething problems with the agent. To put it in a nutshell, we need to check that the newer compounds are doing what we intended.”   
“Teething problems?”   
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Henderson said quickly.   
“Who’s on this team?” Malcolm asked and in spite of himself he couldn’t help feeling a little intrigued by it all.   
“Oh just a few selected members of the company, myself and I’m hoping to secure yours, Dr. Grant’s and Dr. Sattler’s involvement,” Henderson replied with a broad grin. Malcolm snorted.   
“You’ll never get Grant or Sattler on that island.”   
“What about you Dr. Malcolm? Will you join my team?” For the first time Malcolm considered it. The adventurous side of his nature was beginning to win over his usual irrevocably sensible side. Besides, he thought, if he wasn’t there to keep an eye on what those idiots were up to, he did not like to think what trouble they would get themselves into. He made the decision.   
“You’ve got yourself a mathematician,” Malcolm said, shaking Henderson’s hand.   
“Excellent Dr. Malcolm, excellent!” 

*** 

Montana

Grant stared in disbelief at the man standing in front of him. He was still talking through the megaphone even though both Grant and Ellie were no more than three feet away.   
“Dr. Grant, my dear Dr. Sattler, my name is Professor Richard Henderson, you may have heard of me?”  
“No,” Grant and Ellie said in unison. Henderson appeared somewhat taken aback.   
“I own a small biotech firm in Boston,” Henderson explained in a dull drawl. Grant checked his watch irritably, he didn’t have time for this man to drone on for hours on end.   
“What is it you do?” Ellie said quickly, catching sight of Grant’s venomous expression.   
“I work in the biological and chemical area,” Henderson replied enigmatically.   
“Well that explains everything,” Grant muttered under his breath. Henderson gave a short laugh.   
“A lot of our work is top secret Dr. Grant as I’m sure you both understand,” he said with a sharp nod to Ellie. Grant and Ellie exchanged dubious looks.  
“So, this proposition?” Grant said suddenly. Henderson’s demeanour suddenly changed, he appeared somehow happier and delighted that it had been Grant who had brought the conversation full circle.   
“Four years ago my company bought Isla Muerta as a secondary base for our research,” Henderson began. He was jittering about on the sand in an excitable nature that could match a five year olds. “Since then we’ve been developing a new discovery which, if the preliminary tests are successful, could provide a cure for cancer.”  
“What discovery?”  
“A chemical agent injected into certain animals,” Henderson said with a gleam. Grant and Ellie felt uneasy. There had to be more to this but how much could they get out of Henderson?   
“So what does this have to do with us?” Grant asked.  
“I’m sending over a small team to the island to check on progress and I would like you two to accompany it.” Henderson caught sight of Grant’s thunderous look. “I assure you Dr. Grant it is all above board, there is no danger. I just need a couple of experts to make sure we’re doing everything correctly...” Grant’s expression seemed to soften and Henderson seized upon it. “Ian Malcolm has already accepted my invitation.”   
“Malcolm?” Grant asked, his expression now one of explicit interest. He knew that out of all of them, Malcolm was the least likely to accept an invitation to one of those islands and so if Malcolm had indeed accepted, then what harm could there be in going?   
“Alan?” Ellie said uncertainly. She knew what the look in his eyes meant.   
“Would you excuse us?” Grant said to Henderson, who obliged willingly. 

They walked around the back of Grant’s camper van and out of Henderson’s view.   
“Alan, I’m not sure about this,” Ellie said uneasily. “Something feels wrong.” Grant knew what Ellie meant but his curiosity was getting the better of him.   
“He might be able to fund the dig,” Grant said softly. “Think of it Ellie. The season wouldn’t be wasted.” Ellie realised how much this meant to him but she still couldn’t help feeling that something would go wrong as if they were walking into a trap.   
“It’s up to you Alan,” she said resignedly. 

“We accept,” said Grant simply. Henderson clapped his hands together gleefully. “On one condition,” Grant added.  
“Anything, anything!” Henderson said although he was barely listening.   
“Your company funds my dig here for the remainder of this season.” Henderson considered this carefully. If he refused, Grant would withdraw his acceptance but if he agreed then he would be held to it. One of Henderson’s deepest secrets was that his company were only months away from entering administration. This trip was make or break for him.   
“We have a deal Dr. Grant,” Henderson said, his heart thumping fast. They shook hands. “After you Dr. Sattler,” Henderson said to Ellie, holding the door to the helicopter open for her. Ellie climbed aboard followed by Grant and then by Henderson himself. The pilot, who had so far not said a word in all that time kicked the copter to life. As the rotary blades began to to start up, Grant leant over to Henderson.  
“Where to?”   
“First to Costa Rica to pick up Malcolm and then onwards to the island,” Henderson explained.   
“And the others?” Ellie interjected.   
“The rest of the team are on route to the island via boat.” Henderson smiled. “Let the fun begin,” he said and laughed hollowly. The helicopter rose into the air and began the journey to Costa Rica. 

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Third Fraction

THIRD FRACTION

Costa Rica 

Ian Malcolm stood in the torrential rain as he watched the MutaGen helicopter land gracelessly. The rain droplets were bouncing silently off his familiar dark leather jacket. Malcolm seemed not to notice or even care. His mind was fixed on something else. Something was bothering him about the whole operation but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He gazed suspiciously at Professor Henderson who had just climbed out of the copter and was walking excitedly to greet him.   
“Dr. Malcolm! You’re here!” Malcolm heard Henderson shout in a high-pitched hyper voice.   
“I said I would be,” Malcolm replied monotonously. Henderson was unperturbed by his stoicism and gestured enthusiastically towards the helicopter behind them. The rain was coming down even harder now and Henderson was reluctant to remain outside in it for any longer than he had to. Malcolm nodded and the two men jogged back towards the copter. Once they had both climbed aboard and shut the door behind them, Henderson motioned to the pilot to take off. At once the rotary blades whirred to life and seconds later the helicopter was rising in the air and about to head off on its journey to Isla Muerta. 

Grant leant towards Malcolm and shook his hand warmly.   
“Ian. It’s been too long,” he said with a broad grin etched across his face. Malcolm chuckled.   
“Here we are again on our way to another top secret island of god knows what...we should get out more.” Everyone laughed except Ellie who remained silent in her corner.   
“Still trying to connect everything to chaos?”  
“Still digging up old fossils?” Grant and Malcolm laughed again as though they were schoolboys off on an outing to the local zoo. The copter soared below the clouds and it was Ellie who saw the approaching island first.   
“Guys I think we’re nearly there,” she said slowly. Henderson clapped his hands together and leaned over to peer out of the window on Ellie’s side. He nodded in response to Ellie before making a quick gesture to the pilot. Grant and Malcolm were now eagerly looking out across the island’s scenery trying to make out anything and all that they could. The copter shuddered violently as it began to descend towards the designated landing strip. The seatbelt warning light flashed up and Malcolm nudged Grant who recalled the last time he had sat on a helicopter with that man. Fortunately for Grant’s pride he had no difficulty in fastening his seatbelt this time. 

As the helicopter descended further and further down, Malcolm and Grant were becoming ever more giddy and excited by the prospect of exploring it. Malcolm could sense however that he knew more than Grant did about was really going on and a worrying thought crossed his mind.  
“Alan, did Henderson tell you exactly what was going on here?” Grant looked back at him in surprise.   
“That he was developing a possible cure for cancer through a chemical agent injected into animals bred on this island...” Grant fell silent; he was thinking about something. Animals bred on this island. There was something foreboding about those words and already Grant could feel his initial excitement drifting away. The helicopter touched down on the landing strip with an almighty jolt that shook the compartment. Once the rotary blades had come to a stop, Henderson threw open the door and ushered them all outside in to the bleak grey weather of the island.   
“Welcome to Isla Muerta,” Henderson said excitedly. They moved away from under the helicopter and into the open light. Henderson signalled the pilot and with a thundering roar the copter rose into the air and seconds later it had gone. 

***  
Isla Muerta 

“Dr. Sattler, Dr. Grant if you would be so kind as to take that vehicle,” Henderson pointed towards the first of two open top jeeps in front of them. Ellie looked apprehensive but Grant merely shrugged his shoulders resignedly.   
“Come on,” he said softly to Ellie. They climbed into the jeep and moments later were thundering behind Malcolm and Henderson. Everything seemed strangely familiar to them. The rain was still pelting down and Grant growled as the visibility became poorer and poorer.   
“Alan?” Ellie said quietly as the jeep splashed through a filthy looking puddle that showered their ankles with muddy water. “I feel like I’ve been here before.” Grant nodded slowly. He’d had the same feeling. Something was going on and he didn’t like it one bit. Ahead of them, Malcolm and Henderson had just turned a corner and were driving on towards the centre of the island. 

“Grant doesn’t know what’s really going on, does he?” Malcolm said suddenly breaking the silence that had plagued their journey so far. Henderson gazed at him through the rearview mirror with a look of surprise on his face that he quickly stifled.   
“I told him what he needed to know,” he said defiantly. Malcolm laughed silently.   
“Well, he might need to know a hell lot more before the day is out,” he warned. Henderson paid no attention, Grant would know soon enough. It hardly mattered now anyhow, he was on the island and there was no way of getting off unless Henderson called in the copter. There was also no way they’d be leaving any time soon, not until the work was done. “Where are we meeting the others?” Malcolm asked although his mind was fixated on other matters.   
“At the command centre,” Henderson replied simply. “They went ahead of us,” he added as an afterthought. The jeep trundled on down the muddy pathway. 

Ellie and Grant were becoming increasingly anxious about their surroundings. Neither of them could deny the overwhelming evidence that they had set foot here before. But this was Isla Muerta. The third island. Site C. They had definitely never been to that island before; Grant had at least visited Site B, but Ellie, she had only ever been to Site A. “Nublar”, Grant muttered under his breath. Ellie’s face whitened and tensed.   
“What did you say?” she whispered fearfully. Grant didn’t answer at first, his eye had caught sight of a piece of charred bracken littering the track. It was all making sense to him.  
“This place,” Grant said, the words forming slowly in his mouth, “it’s Isla Nublar.” 

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Fourth Fraction

FOURTH FRACTION

Isla Nublar...Site A

 

“Are you sure?” Asked Ellie uncertainly. Grant nodded slowly, his face ashen with worry.   
“Something is going on here,” Grant said under his breath. “I don’t like it.” Ellie looked at Henderson and Malcolm’s jeep, parked just a little further ahead. Then she turned back to Grant.  
“Do you think Malcolm knows?” Grant thought about this for a few seconds then shook his head.   
“He would have said something-”  
“This is Ian Malcolm we’re talking about,” Ellie cut across. “Who knows what goes on inside his head!” Grant’s lips curled into a small smile. “What about Henderson,” Ellie pressed on, lowering her voice as they drew closer to the other jeep. “Do you trust him?” Grant brought the jeep to a stop, the wheels squelching in the damp mud. He checked over his shoulder, making sure that Henderson was out of earshot.   
“He’s up to something. I don’t know what but I’m curious.”   
“I don’t trust him,” Ellie murmured fiercely.   
“I never said I did,” Grant replied with a piercing stare at Henderson who was ushering them to join him. “I suppose we’d better go,” Grant said looking up in mild awe at the impressive building Henderson was standing in front of. The building was huge and spacious and the white marble sparkled and glittered in the sunlight.   
“Well, that wasn’t there last time,” muttered Ellie. Grant stifled a laugh. 

***

Henderson seemed beside himself with glee as he threw open the doors to the huge marble complex. As they stepped inside, the atrium became illuminated by rows and rows of fluorescent lighting. Malcolm whistled in mock appreciation as he stared around at the circular walls, each complimented by a gigantic plaque engraved with a different dinosaur skeleton. Henderson strode across quickly to stand in the centre of the room. He threw out his arms magnificently and took a sharp intake of breath.   
“Dr. Malcolm, Dr. Grant, Dr. Sattler it is with great pleasure and pride that I welcome you all to MutaGen Industries....Nublar.” Grant and Ellie studied Malcolm closely to see his reaction to Henderson’s revelation of their true location. They realised the moment they looked that he hadn’t known at all. Henderson was eyeing them carefully, looking from one to the other. It was Malcolm who spoke first.   
“This is Isla Nublar?” Henderson nodded. “The Isla Nublar? The one the Costa Rican government napalmed?” Malcolm made a noise that sounded like a cross between a whistle and a whoop. “I’ve got to hand it to you, you’ve really done it now!” Henderson shot him a warning look that Grant saw.   
“What do you mean?” Grant said sharply at Malcolm.   
“Haven’t you worked it out yet Alan?” Malcolm said with an eager glint in his dark eyes.   
“Worked out what?” replied Ellie, her eyes fixed upon Henderson who looked increasingly more anxious with every word that Malcolm uttered. He was desperately trying to get Malcolm to stop talking but the more he protested the more suspicious Grant and Ellie were becoming.   
“Remember the last time a genetics company came here?” Comprehension was beginning to dawn inside Grant’s mind.   
“You’re kidding me!” He growled.   
“Bingo,” said Malcolm. Henderson was at that moment saved by a timely buzz on his mobile phone.   
***

MutaGen Industries Island Control Room

Daniel Peterson sat at his desk silently overseeing the events in the atrium below. He was a tall, muscular and stern looking man; forty-six years of age with a short military style haircut. A former US Army Sergeant, Peterson had been approached by Henderson three years ago with a lucrative offer to head security on a small Costa Rican island. Peterson had leapt at the opportunity and for the last three years he had been overseeing the security of the island whilst Henderson’s scientists got on with their business. At first, he had had little idea of what Henderson was really trying to achieve and to tell the truth he had seldom cared. But as more and more time passed, Peterson found himself questioning the public face of the company until one day he confronted Henderson. 

One Year Ago

“What’s really going on here Henderson?” Peterson shouted through gritted teeth as his eyes scanned through a list of the company’s expenditure. Several items had jumped out of him as being particularly strange and he wondered why a biotech company could possibly need such things. “Electric fences to cover every perimeter of the island, that I can understand but 20,000 volts? Who needs that kind of power?” Henderson surveyed the apoplectic man with curious fascination. He admired Peterson’s tenacity and attention to detail; it had been one of the main reasons he’d sought him out.   
“Peterson...Daniel. Have I ever lied to you about what I’m doing here?” Henderson asked, smiling sweetly. Peterson thought about this for a second, it was true that Henderson had never lied to him but at the same time he’d never said anything either.   
“Why can’t you tell me then?”   
“Can you promise not to tell anyone, not even your family?” Henderson asked softly. In truth, he had decided a week ago that it was time for Peterson to know the truth as progress steadily rattled on to stage three of the process. Peterson nodded. “You ask me why we need 20,000 volt electric fences, correct?”   
“Yes.”  
“The answer is simple. Dinosaurs.” Peterson’s eyes widened in shock and confusion.  
“D...dino...whatsits?”   
“We’re cloning dinosaurs,” Henderson said with glee. “Properly,” he added as an afterthought. He saw that Peterson was still perplexed by the whole situation. “Do you remember a biotech company called InGen?” Peterson shook his head. Henderson laughed. “Not many people do, the Costa Rican government kept it all hush hush,” he turned to gaze out of the control room window in to the bright sunshine of the island. “Such a beautiful place,” he murmured distractedly. “InGen was owned by a bizarre little man, John Hammond. He had a dream and in the late 80s his dream was realised.”  
“What dream?” Peterson asked.   
“They successfully cloned a dinosaur back from extinction. It was the greatest scientific advancement in human history.”  
“What happened then?”  
“Oh Hammond envisaged a glorious theme park on this island, invited some experts over for a weekend to check it out and the whole thing was an unmitigated disaster. The dinosaurs escaped, half the workers were killed and the Costa Rican government took the decision to napalm the whole lot. InGen went into administration and poor old John Hammond was ousted from the company.” Peterson nodded blindly at Henderson’s ramblings.   
“So why are you cloning dinosaurs?”   
“To save the world.” 

Present Day

Peterson thought back to that day and over the year that followed, Henderson had indeed seemed preoccupied by a desire to save the world. The dinosaurs were just a tiny part of his grand plans. He couldn’t help feeling uneasy though. The pay was good and it had allowed his family to live comfortably but Peterson had read up on the ‘InGen Disaster.’ That in turn had led him to the ‘San Diego Accident.’ It seemed that wherever these dinosaurs had been concerned, death and destruction had followed in their wake. He sighed. Perhaps he was over thinking it all, in any case he trusted Henderson. He took a deep sip of coffee and returned to the monitors. Henderson and his guests had left the atrium now and were making their way to the laboratory. 

***

MutaGen Industries Island Laboratory 

Henderson felt apprehensive as he pushed open the door to the laboratory. But then, he thought to himself, Grant had worked out the truth and he was still complying...maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about? He glanced up at Grant but the palaeontologist's face was impossible to read. Malcolm had returned to his usual self and Ellie was deliberately avoiding his gaze. Henderson shrugged and ushered them into the lab. Ellie, Grant and Malcolm gazed around the impressive glass room with looks of amazement etched across their faces. They all remembered the groundbreaking technology of InGen but this was something else. This was without precedence; utterly unbelievable. Their awestruck looks went unnoticed by the twenty or so scientists and assistants that busied themselves around the lab, from incubating dinosaur eggs to nursing the recently hatched babies. Grant’s eye fell upon a scientist injecting one of the eggs with a peculiar kind of glowing liquid.   
“What’s he doing?” he asked Henderson slowly, watching as the scientist removed the needle and discarded it into the bin.   
“He’s altering the chemical makeup of the dinosaur,” Malcolm murmured.   
“To what end?” Grant replied slowly, his eyes still fixed upon the scientist.   
“This is what we’re doing here Dr. Grant,” Henderson said. “We’re trying to save the human race.”   
“Does it hurt the dinosaurs in any way?” Ellie asked concernedly. Henderson laughed.  
“Oh no not at all! If it did, I assure you I wouldn’t allow it. No, all it does is allow the compound to incubate with the embryo and after the dinosaur itself hatches. We then monitor its progress in the reserve and once it reaches full grown adulthood, we send a team out into the wild to take a sample of its blood.” They all watched Henderson curiously as he finally explained the true purpose of what was going on. “The blood sample is then taken back to the lab where we test it to see if the compound has successfully reacted in the way we hope.”  
“Have you been successful yet?” Malcolm asked curiously.   
“Just the once,” Henderson admitted solemnly. “But it wasn’t enough to get excited about.” Grant looked pensively at the rows and rows of dinosaur eggs. He felt reminded of a life he thought he’d left behind years ago. To be suddenly thrust into the centre of it all again scared him, it really did. He thought he recognised some of the eggs and it made him feel particularly uneasy.   
“Show me the list of dinosaurs you’ve created,” Grant said suddenly. “I need to see.”  
“We’ll have to go to the control room then,” Henderson said resignedly. He had hoped to remain in the laboratory a little while longer but his main priority right now was keeping those three happy, especially Dr. Grant. “Follow me.” 

***

MutaGen Industries Island Control Room

They traipsed into the control room led by Henderson who was greeted with much enthusiasm by Peterson and the other employees. Henderson’s mood was lifted by the jovial attitude of his colleagues.   
“Timothy, I need you to punch up a list of all the dinosaurs we’ve got on the island,” Henderson said to Timothy Smith, a tiny young man no more than twenty-five with long scraggly hair. Smith clicked his fingers roughly and began to tap a list of codes into the touch screen monitor. Moments later the screen flashed and a table appeared in bold letters. 

Species Expected Quantity Found Quantity  
Brachiosaurus 8 8  
Apatosaurus 6 6  
Stegosaurus 10 10  
Triceratops 15 15  
Pterodactyl 24 24  
Velociraptor 4 4  
Tyrannosaurus 1 1  
Spinosaurus 1 1  
Procompsognathus 34 34  
Diplodocus 7 7  
Maiasaura 3 3  
Hadrosaurus 46 46  
Unknown Species 1 1  
Total 160 160

Grant looked at the table and dismay fell across his face as he read the names of the species.   
“You bred raptors? Spinosaurus, Tyrannosaurus?” Henderson shrugged. “Are they allowed to roam free and intermingle?”   
“Of course not!” Smith interrupted. “We have enclosures for each of the twelve species on this island.”   
“Twelve?” Asked Ellie. “This table shows thirteen. What’s that one?” She pointed towards the last name on the list, Unknown Species. Smith wasn’t quick enough to disguise his look of confusion.   
“Probably just a system malfunction,” he said with little conviction in his voice. Malcolm laughed.   
“So I’ve been wondering,” Malcolm said without warning. “InGen used frog DNA to complete the code, how did you manage it?” Henderson didn’t answer.   
“Tell me you didn’t,” Grant said with an unmistakeable tone of exasperation. “Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you have.” Malcolm’s eyes fell upon an unmanned monitor in the corner of the room; the screen just bright enough for him to make out a few details.   
“They did.” He said softly. Grant smacked his right hand down on the desk agitatedly.   
“Damn!” 

TO BE CONTINUED

“The instability of the science will become evidenced through the unexplained alterations in the natural ecosystem...” - Ian Malcolm


	5. Fifth Fraction

FIFTH FRACTION

“The overwhelming evidence of chaos theory point to unavoidable disaster...” - Ian Malcolm 

Henderson looked from Malcolm to Grant trying to read their expressions. The whole room was quiet, no one daring to speak. In the far right corner a small clock ticked reliably over and over. Malcolm was smiling sardonically whilst Grant looked thunderous and Ellie disgusted. Peterson paid them no attention and resumed his checking of the facility’s security. Smith nodded discretely at him and with a deft hand Peterson flicked a switch by the side of his terminal. At once the room was illuminated by bright lights and it was a few moments before Grant, Malcolm and Ellie realised they were the watching the camera feeds. The images swam in and out of focus as the cameras adjusted themselves. Malcolm took note of this and muttered something under his breath that only Grant was able to catch.  
“Chaos.” Henderson cleared his throat suddenly.   
“Thank you Daniel,” he said before turning back to face his guests. “As you can see through these top of the range camera feeds-” Malcolm snorted derisively at this, “the entire facility is under constant monitoring. Every safety precaution has been taken.” Grant and Malcolm shot each other dubious looks though they did not respond. “Dr. Grant, Dr. Malcolm, Dr. Sattler, if you could follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms,” Henderson continued ushering them out of the control room. Once he was sure they were out of earshot, Henderson turned back to Smith and Peterson. “Get Moody,” he said softly. Peterson nodded and reached for his radio. Satisfied, Henderson strode out of the room. 

***

MutaGen Industries Isla Nublar Sleeping Quarters

“I hope you will find these adequate for the duration of your stay here,” Henderson told them as he unlocked the doors to their three rooms. The rooms were more than adequate. Decorated with tasteful turquoise wallpaper and adorned with brilliantly artful portraits of the various dinosaurs on the island, the rooms also each featured a sink, a single bed with silken sheets and a plasma screen HDTV fixed to the back wall. Ellie’s room also featured an en suite bathroom that was accessed through a small door in the right hand wall. “Tomorrow we’ll take you into the heart of our operations here,” Henderson said as he prepared to leave them to it.   
“Will there be any dinosaurs?” Malcolm said with a snort of laughter.   
“That I can’t promise. Their habits are unpredictable.”  
“They’re not,” Malcolm muttered. Henderson did not hear him.   
“You’re making a big mistake,” Grant said quietly. “Trust me when I tell you, this will not end well.” Henderson smiled.   
“When this is all over Dr. Grant, I will be celebrated around the globe. Professor Richard Henderson, Nobel Peace Prize winner...” Henderson’s eyes lit up with glee as he said this. He clapped his hands together and walked away. Moments later, he was gone. Grant and Ellie piled into Malcolm’s room, shutting the door behind them.   
“What’s going on here?” Ellie asked. She looked worried. Malcolm remained silent for a moment, thoughts ticking over in his mind. Then slowly, calculatedly, he spoke.  
“They’re trying to find a cure for cancer. At least that’s the public front. What else, I don’t know but now that I’ve seen some of the operations here I would not be surprised if there was something more sinister going on. I don’t trust Henderson,” Malcolm took a deep breath. “We need to keep an eye on him.”   
“I agree,” said Grant simply.   
“What are we going to do?” asked Ellie quietly. “I don’t want to stay here, I’ve got Charlie to think of and...and I’d never forgive myself if I let something happen to me. He needs me. And I know he’s old enough to look after himself but he’ll always be my little boy to me.” A few tears slid out of Ellie’s eyes and Grant placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.   
“We’re here for three days, maybe nothing will happen,” Grant said trying to be optimistic even though he was sick with worry inside.   
“Y’know, just once I’d love to be wrong,” Malcolm said with a dry smile. 

***

Control Room

It was now past 11pm and the island outside was bathed in darkness lit only by the bright stars in the sky. The facility was silent for the most part save for the continued vibrations from the control room as Peterson and Smith continued to work tirelessly. Henderson pushed open the heavy door and walked calmly inside.   
“Did you get hold of Moody?” He asked quickly. Peterson spun around from the monitor to look at Henderson.   
“A few moments ago, he’s on his way,” he told him.   
“Thank you Daniel.”   
“How’re the guests?” Smith inquired.   
“Suspicious, cautious, unhelpful; about what you’d expect,” Henderson replied with a cool laugh.   
“Considering what they’ve been through over the years, I’d say they have a good reason to be.” Peterson said with a shrug.   
“But enough of them!” Henderson said abruptly. “We’re making progress?”  
“We are.”   
“Good. Good,” Henderson cracked his knuckles absentmindedly. “I’ve made some alterations to the formula, hopefully we’ll be able to iron out the issues.”   
“I’ve been worrying about that table I showed Grant,” Smith said suddenly. Henderson looked up sharply.  
“What about it?”   
“The unknown species. I thought we’d disposed of the altered ones?” A look of mild concern flashed over Henderson’s face.   
“It must be a computing error,” he said dismissively. At that moment the door opened again and Moody appeared silhouetted in the doorway.   
“You called,” Moody said in a gruff voice. 

Moody

James Moody was the head vet for MutaGen’s operations on Isla Nublar. He was a 5ft 10 thirty-six year old with short red hair and a barrel chest. He’d first met Richard Henderson ten years ago and had been part of his company ever since. For the most part his job had involved taking care of the various animals involved in Henderson’s scientific discoveries but five years ago, Henderson had approached him with his scheme to find the cure to cancer. At first, Moody had found the idea ridiculous. There was no way it could work. It was a fool’s dream. Henderson had accepted his views and did not broach the subject again. Then just 18 months later, Henderson summoned Moody to his office in the Boston branch of MutaGen and told him of his plans. Moody thought it over.   
“I’m going to recreate InGen’s dream,” Henderson had told him. “Even with decades of research we still don’t really know much about the dinosaurs. I know that if I can find the right formula, I could create a miracle!” Moody surveyed Henderson’s gleaming eyes with rising interest.   
“What would you need me for?”   
“I’ve taken out a lease on Isla Nublar for a top of the range scientific facility. The dinosaurs will need a vet. I’m hoping it will be you.” Moody considered this. On one hand he knew nothing about how to look after dinosaurs after all they were an extinct species but on the other this was an opportunity he could not afford to miss out on. “What do you say?” Henderson pressed. James Moody brushed a hand through his hair before responding; his mind still working furiously. His adventurous side won out.   
“I’ll do it. I’ll be your vet.” Henderson clapped his hands together delightedly.  
“Excellent!” He cried. 

Control Room

Henderson’s expression turned to one of ecstatic delight as Moody walked into the room. It had been many months since the two friends had seen each other and Henderson greeted him like a long estranged relative.   
“It’s been too long James!”   
“Likewise Richard,” Moody replied, his voice less gruff than it had been moments ago. He cleared his throat with a loud cough. “What’s going on?”   
“I know it’s late and I know this isn’t fair, but we need you to go out into the enclosures. I’m taking the guests around the island tomorrow and I’ve got to make sure that any anomalies won’t jeopardise things,” Henderson said all this very fast. Moody frowned.   
“Is this vital?” Henderson nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you owe me one Richard!”   
“I won’t forget!” Moody laughed and exited the room, heading down the corridor towards the lifts. 

***

Moody

Moody climbed into his jeep and sped out along the muddy track that led into the heart of the island. All around him the 100ft electric fences glistened and crackled as he drove on further and further. The wind was getting stronger, beating Moody’s face viciously. Moody ignored it as his jeep swung wildly around a sharp corner. Although he didn’t show it, he felt a nervous tension steadily rising inside him. He didn’t want to be out here in the dark on his own tending after prehistoric creatures. Then he thought of the way Henderson was acting. Although he hadn’t seen his friend for a long time there was something about Henderson’s demeanour tonight that had seemed peculiar. Moody felt he was being lied to and this worried him. As much as he valued his friendship with the scientist if he found out something that he couldn’t keep to himself without compromising his own integrity, Moody knew he would inform the Costa Rican authorities. He hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. His friendship with Henderson would be damaged irrevocably...  
Moody had become so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice he had driven past the entrance to the Stegosaurus Enclosure. He wrenched the gear into reverse and began to take the jeep slowly backwards, constantly checking over his shoulder. It happened out of nowhere. Moody took his eyes off the road for a split second and before he could stop it, the jeep slid precariously in the mud. Moody tried desperately to spin the wheel but to no avail. The jeep lurched violently and lifted up off the ground. Moody’s heartbeat was racing, there was nothing he could do as the jeep swung backwards and crashed to the ground, trapping him underneath it. Moody smashed his head against the metal frame of the vehicle and lost consciousness. For a few moments the engine spluttered and then that too died away and the only sound to be heard were the hoots of owls. James Moody was alone, out here in the dead of night. 

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Sixth Fraction

SIXTH FRACTION

“The cracks in the system will become unavoidable...” - Ian Malcolm

Moody

Smoke was rising from the upturned jeep as the wind began to gust stronger and stronger. Trees and bushes bent awkwardly as the ground was showered with broken leaves. In the far off distance an unmistakeable roar filled the air and then it was quiet. Deathly quiet. James Moody lay in a twisted heap underneath the bonnet of the wrecked jeep. Blood was seeping from underneath his trousers and he knew that without help he would probably die. Groaning, Moody reached out his free arm and tried to grab the radio from his pocket. His bloodied fingers tried to grip the device but they slipped and Moody felt a sudden jolt of pain through his legs. Determined, Moody gritted his teeth and thrust his hand back into his pocket; this time his fingers enclosed around the radio tightly and he was able to draw it out. It took a few moments for Moody’s eyes to adjust to the sudden bright light of the radio, his head was swimming and the pain was rising steadily by the second. He jabbed at a button on the device and for a few seconds heard only static before a familiar voice called out.   
“Hello? Who is this?” Moody groaned in agony as he attempted to compose himself.   
“Moody...send help...north entrance...quick,” the radio crackled and died. Moody dared not hope that his message had been received, all he could do was wait. Rain began to patter his face aggressively and his body began to shiver and shake in the cold. 

Control Room

Richard Henderson paced around the control room distractedly. It had been half an hour since Moody’s fractured message had come through on the radio and there was still no word on his whereabouts or what had happened. Peterson and Smith were scouring the monitors for any sign of him.   
“He said north entrance,” Henderson said suddenly. Peterson swivelled round on his chair to face his employer. “Have you checked that?”   
“Sir, we’ve checked everywhere, there’s no sign of him,” Peterson said resignedly.   
“Check again!” Henderson’s face was apoplectic with rage as he pointed a quivering finger at Peterson.   
“Sir...” Peterson began but faltered as Henderson glared at him. Sighing, he turned back to the monitors and began to punch the keys rapidly with his fingers. He scanned the screen carefully as the camera feed searched around the north entrance for any trace of the missing Moody. Then he saw it. A tiny speck in the corner of the screen. Peterson tapped it and the camera began to zoom in. The outline of an upturned jeep now filled the screen and even as Henderson saw it, his heart dropped.   
“Send a medical and rescue team out immediately,” Henderson said quietly, his voice cracking. “Now!” He shouted and everyone in the room jumped. Smith nodded obediently and without a word he exited the room. The whole room watched and waited in silence. Henderson was breathing heavily as the colour drained from his face. He still stared bleakly at the image of the upturned jeep and his heart felt heavy with dread. If Moody died, it was all his fault; he’d sent his friend out there alone...Henderson coughed, clearing his throat. “Okay everyone, back to work,” he said croakily. 

Grant

Something was wrong, thought Grant as he stared out across the facility from his window. He could sense a state of panic descending amongst the workers as he watched a jeep go careering off into the night at breakneck speed. Through the glass of the window he could just about make out the faint sounds of shouting but of what was being said he had no idea. Grant blinked twice. Something had caught his eye. He stared piercingly into the night; it can’t have been. His eyes traced the outline of the shape. Grant swore under his breath. He couldn’t be seeing this, he thought incredulously. The shape was unmistakeable. Grant was staring at a dinosaur. A dinosaur that definitely wasn’t in any cages or behind any fences. A dinosaur that was now bounding away into the distance. Grant didn’t know why he did it; without thinking he pushed open the door and slipped quietly into the corridor, bent on following the disappearing dinosaur’s claw prints. He passed by unnoticed, all attention and focus was on the ongoing rescue mission, but that was unknown to Grant as he climbed into the lift and took it down to the ground floor. 

Moody

Moody groaned, his eyes swimming with tears as he lay in the wet sticky mud. Moody had managed to stem the flow of blood from his legs with a piece of his shirt tied tight around the wound but it had now been hours since the crash and there was still no sign of any rescue. His hopes were fading fast. The rain was still pelting down, icy cold and relentless. Moody’s eyes flickered, his strength fading, then a desperate thought struck him. What if he could just manage to squeeze under the jeep? Moody began to writhe and slide in the mud, trying to slip under the jeep and into the open. He pressed his body deep in the dirt and with his arms thrust his body out to the left. His shoulders collided with the cold metal frame of the jeep but Moody’s determination did not falter. He collected his thoughts, closed his eyes and tried again. This time it worked. To Moody’s utter amazement he found his body slipping through the mud and into the open air. He opened his eyes and gazed in wonderment at the dark sky. He didn’t care about the tumultuous pain in his legs, he didn’t care that this could be his last night on earth, all James Moody cared about was that he was free. 

Grant

Grant was now outside the facility. He had tracked the dinosaur’s path away from the main laboratory building and was now walking back along the track they had driven up earlier. Grant stopped. The tracks seemed to be leading into a patch of ferns to the left side of the path. He pushed aside the plant and continued his pursuit. Grant stopped again. Two bright yellow eyes were staring back at him. Watching him. Studying him. Grant felt his heart drop as he froze on the spot. For minutes they just stared at each other, neither making a move. 

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Seventh Fraction

SEVENTH FRACTION

Moody

James Moody dragged his limp body haphazardly towards a large oak tree overhanging the enormous fence. He breathed heavily, his chest rising up and down raggedly and causing him a great deal of pain. His eyes were watering as he pressed his body up against the tree and relaxed. Dawn was only a few hours away, if rescue was coming they would have to find him soon.   
“Damn!” Moody shouted, his breathless voice carried away by the wind. Several birds took flight from the fence in alarm. Then a bright light fell upon his face. Surprised, Moody screwed up his eyes, concentrating, as he tried to make out the source. A jeep was coming towards him. He wondered if they could see him, if they were coming for him at all. With a screech of engines the jeep slid to a stop in front of him. The front door opened and two men climbed out wearing bright white lab coats stamped with a red cross on their lapels. They shined a torch into Moody’s face.   
“He’s here,” the taller of the pair declared loudly. Moody said nothing as they approached and examined him. “Pupil’s fixed and dilated,” the first voice said again.   
“We’d better get him to the Med-Centre pronto,” replied the second.   
“I am here you know,” Moody spluttered indignantly. He was becoming increasingly irritated by the amount of prodding and poking they were doing to his body.   
“Apologies Mr. Moody but it’s our job to check you’re a-okay,” the first voice said in a painfully cheery and understandable tone that only served to piss Moody off further.   
“Just get me the hell back!” The two doctors nodded to each other and placed their arms around Moody’s armpits.   
“Can you walk?”   
“A little,” Moody replied.   
“No worries, we’ll help you. It’s only a few paces.” They assisted Moody towards their jeep and lifted him onto the back seat where he could lie down in relative comfort.   
“It’s gonna be a bumpy ride back,” they warned. Moody groaned but then his groans turned into a weird, delirious laughter. The doctors exchanged worried glances. 

Grant 

Those eyes, those bright vivid yellow eyes...Grant watched them intently. He couldn’t help recognising their exquisite alien beauty. The intricate design of the iris filled Grant with a sense of wonder. It was amazing that nature had created something so magical and yet so ordinary. But aside from all of this there was a nagging feeling building in his mind. He didn’t recognise this dinosaur. Grant knew every dinosaur, or so he had thought. Why didn’t he know this one? He racked his brain and suddenly it dawned on him. Unknown Species. That table, the tally had discovered two species it could not identify. Could this be one of them? If it was that made everything ten times worse. They wouldn’t know how this species would react, how it hunted, if it was a herbivore or carnivore or even, like humans, an omnivore. Grant felt a cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck.   
“Think you fool think,” Grant muttered under his breath. He took a step towards the dinosaur. The reaction was not what Grant had expected at all. Alarmed, the animal jumped several feet up into the air. For a few panic stricken moments Grant thought it was going to pounce on him and braced himself for the inevitable end. And then something incredible happened. A pair of wings opened up on its back and then another pair followed suit so that it was like a giant, beautiful and impressive dragonfly. “Wow,” Grant said softly. He watched as the animal took flight and soared away from him. “I need a closer look,” he whispered. Grant pushed his way through the grassy verge, coming face to face with a solid metal gate. Expecting defeat, Grant pushed at the gate and it swung open softly. Another nagging feeling was descending on him again but he stepped through anyway. 

***

Malcolm

Ian Malcolm watched as James Moody was carried past him on a stretcher. Curious, he stood for a few moments, staring in the direction of the small Med-Centre and tapped his fingers together. As far as Malcolm was concerned this was the first hint towards total chaos and collapse. Moody’s crash hadn’t happened for no reason, Malcolm thought. No. Chaos theory was taking affect here and if they didn’t watch out who knew what might happen. Suddenly, Malcolm felt a warm hand upon his shoulder. He turned around to find Ellie Sattler standing there. She was ashen faced and to his horror Malcolm saw that tears were rolling silently down her cheeks. For all he knew about maths and chaos, Malcolm was oblivious to the science of emotion. It was alien to him, so used was he to keeping his emotions hidden and undercover. All he could think to do was place a comforting arm around Ellie’s shoulder.   
“What’s happened?” Malcolm whispered cutting across the silence that had descended the building. Ellie bit her lip in an attempt to stop the flow of tears. She was clutching her phone in her free hand and through the soft light of the screen Malcolm could just about make out a name flashing on and off. Charlie. Her son, Charlie. “Is it Charlie?” He asked quietly. “Has something happened to Charlie?” Ellie looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and stinging. She nodded but then moments later she shook her head. Malcolm frowned, not knowing what to think; his mind still full of fear for the facility and the dinosaurs.   
“It’s not Charlie...it’s my mother. She died last night.” Malcolm didn’t need to say anything. There was nothing he could say that would make any difference to her in a time like this. He looked straight into her eyes and hugged her. Ellie tried her best to smile through the tears. 

MutaGen - Main Laboratory - Isla Nublar

Dr. Timothy Howard, one of the leading scientists for MutaGen industries swore loudly as he saw one of the junior scientists fumble a test tube dropping it to the cold metal floor where it smashed loudly and covering the floor in a sickly red goo. The junior looked up at Howard sheepishly and hurried over to find a mop. Howard ignored him and turned away. There were more pressing matters to be concerned with.   
“Did you get Henderson’s message?” Howard muttered to Dr. Phillips, a tall burly man with a thick goatee on his chin and dark grey hair.   
“The man is losing it,” Phillips replied darkly. Howard shot him an inquisitive look. “What does he expect us to do?”   
“We follow our instructions,” Howard replied. “We create the perfect creature.”   
“But there is no cure!” Phillips hissed. “We are never going to find a cure this way, what we’re doing is against nature, against science!”   
“We have our orders. It is not our place to question them,” Howard said simply. Phillips raised his eyebrows and scoffed condescendingly.   
“You’re just a mindless fool.” Howard’s eyes flashed dangerously. Phillips took a step away from him, taken aback. “Okay, fine. I’ll continue the work. May God help us all.” Phillips turned and swept away, his chest heaving with anger. Howard stared after him coldly before clapping his hands together and returning to his workbench. Dawn was fast approaching and already rays of sunlight were beginning to stream through the open windows as Howard picked up a vial of the same red goo the junior had dropped earlier. Carefully, controlled, he tipped the vial sideways and poured the goo into a large needle. When he was at last satisfied that the needle was fully prepared, Howard placed a small cap on the end of it and handed it to one of his assistants. He sighed heavily. Phillips’ words still ringing his mind although he tried his best to ignore them. Howard was a volatile man at the best of times. His quick temper had earned him a reputation in his college days and he had never been able to quite shake it. He remembered how Henderson had been apprehensive in hiring him but his sheer brilliance had won him over; but despite all of this, Howard was worried. Things had not run as smoothly as he had hoped. There had been accidents. The science was new, untested and the company hid under the pretence of mutagens. They had created monsters, abhorrent mutations of the known dinosaur species and whilst most had died after a few short days in the laboratory a couple had survived. Howard remembered how Henderson had dismissed his worries with a laugh and forced him to release the animals into the wild. Don’t worry, Howard had been told. They’ll die off. The simple fact was that they hadn’t died. They’d flourished, matured and grown in the facility’s wildlife. What if they started to breed? This was a new species. Everyone on this island was in terrible danger but Timothy Howard was too cowardly to speak up. He felt a sudden cold shiver down his spine as he stared out the window. For a brief second Howard was sure he had seen a large yellow eye watching him; but there was nothing out there. 

***

Med-Centre

Richard Henderson wrenched open the door to the Med-Centre and strode quietly inside. His face was pale, almost ashen. He watched his friend, Moody, being lifted off the stretcher and placed carefully onto a small hospital bed. Henderson gave a huge sigh, trying to keep his composure before he collected his thoughts and pulled up a chair beside Moody’s bed.   
“Thought you’d check on me?” Moody spluttered. Henderson smiled in spite of himself.   
“How’re you feeling?” he asked, his voice full of genuine concern for his old friend. Moody ran his hand through his hair before he answered. He was feeling flushed and the pain in his legs was rising.   
“Like someone’s rode over my legs with a bloody steamroller.” Moody twisted his head to the right, his eyes looking over towards the Nurses Station. “Where the hell can I get some painkillers in this place?” he cried out irritably. Henderson tried to calm him but Moody’s temperature was rising rapidly and he was becoming increasingly flustered. “I can’t bear this...need morphine...please...” Moody began to thrash wildly in his bed, his arms flailing from side to side and sweat dripping from his forehead. Saliva was dribbling out the corners of his mouth; his pupils fixed and dilated.   
“I need some help here!” Henderson shouted desperately. But no one was coming. They were alone. Everything seemed to fall into slow-motion, echoing ten times as loud as it should. Henderson rushed over to the medical cupboards ransacking them for painkillers. He had no medical training but he knew that if Moody didn’t receive pain relief soon, his friend could die. His hands enclosed around a packet of strong aspirin, it wasn’t much but he hoped it would help. Moody was still convulsing theatrically on the bed as Henderson crushed two aspirin pills into a glass of water. His mind was racing, panicking as he waited for the pills to fully dissolve in the water. “Come on!” He yelled frantically as he rushed back to Moody’s side, clutching the glass in his hand. He knelt beside him, holding the glass to Moody’s lips. “Come on James, drink this!” Moody opened his mouth weakly and gulped down the liquid. For a few minutes he continued to thrash until the medication began to kick in. Soon Moody was calm once again but Henderson knew that he had to get help quickly. Before he could call again, however, the door to the Med-Centre flew open and a small man came careering towards him.   
“What’s going on?” the small, bald man said excitably. “I heard shouting.” Henderson’s eyes flashed.   
“Where the fucking hell have you been?” Henderson was furious. His best friend’s life was in this man’s hands and he couldn’t be bothered to come when he was called.   
“There’s no need to get shirty with me Mr. Henderson, I’m here now,” the man replied. Henderson took a deep breath to calm himself.   
“Dr. Franco,” Henderson said slowly. “Do you realise that your patient, this man here...” he paused, pointing at Moody on the bed, “could have died in the time it took you to get here?” Dr. Franco didn’t say anything. He looked uncomfortable. 

Grant

“Amazing,” Grant said to himself as he surveyed the landscape. It hadn’t changed much in the twenty odd years since he’d last set foot on this island but he still felt the same sense of wonder. Away from the science, away from the creatures, as a separate entity the island itself was beautiful. Grant got down to his knees and placed his ear to the ground. He could hear a faint rumbling sound coming from a distance. “The herd’s moving,” he whispered with a grin. He clambered back up to his feet and glanced at the sky. The flying beast was nowhere to be seen. Alan Grant shrugged and started to walk back towards where he had come. He felt a chill descend across the island. Clouds were forming, thickening and preparing to dump a deluge of rain on top of him. Grant was in no mood to get caught up in it as he jogged quickly back to the gate. He grabbed hold of the handle in his hand and pulled but the gate did not open. 

To Be Continued


	8. Eighth Fraction

EIGHTH FRACTION

Grant

Grant looked around, cursing wildly as the pitter patter of rainfall began to fall on him. He gave the gate another shake but it was stuck fast, slowly realisation dawned on him. He was stranded. Worse still, he had no way of contacting anyone. Alan Grant was completely alone. The rain was getting heavier now, striking his face with such force that it stung briefly. Grant pulled his jacket over his head and began to run towards a cluster of trees where he hoped to take shelter until the storm passed. For now however, it showed no sign of wanting to relent. Instead the shower was becoming heavier and heavier; thunder cracked loudly, echoing in the sky accompanied by the dangerous flash of lightning. The weather was showing all the signs of wanting to erupt into a full blown Costa Rican storm.   
“Shit!” Grant cried out as hailstones began to bombard him mercilessly. He quickened his pace but the torrent of rain and hail met his every move. Another thunderclap followed by a flash of forked lightning. A northeasterly wind was blowing the rain into Grant’s face. It was cold and uncomfortable. “Alan Grant you are a fool!” Grant yelled as he dived under cover. “You knew what would happen if you came on this trip. Idiot!” He was furious not just with the MutaGen company for coercing him here but also with himself for allowing it. His curiosity had once again got the better of him. He hated himself for it. Breathing heavily, Grant sat down underneath a tree, his clothes dripping with cold water. He sighed. Looking up at the blackened sky, Alan Grant began to laugh in spite of himself. 

***

Ellie

Ellie wiped her eyes with a tissue. They were stinging, blotched and red. She sat alone on her bed, her suitcase, half packed, lying open on the floor. Her head was spinning. She didn’t know what to think or do, although it was clear that crying her eyes out had made no difference to her feelings. On one hand she had known her mother was on borrowed time but on the other, Ellie had not expected her to go so soon. Ellie was torn between being ready and total shock. She closed her eyes, attempting to take her mind back to her last conversation with her mother. There was nothing. Ellie screwed up her eyes in concentration but no memories came to light; she could see her mother’s face in her mind but it was blurred and out of focus. She knew she had been distant with her in the last few years but it terrified her how little survived in memory and dream. With horror, Ellie realised that her mother had died both physically and spiritually. The memory of her was fading every faster by the second and not even Ellie’s grief could save it. A new tear trickled coldly down her cheek.   
“Ellie?” Ellie looked up in the direction of the voice, there was a sharp knock on her door. “Ellie?” it was Malcolm. Ellie marched rigidly towards the door and yanked it open. Malcolm stood towering in the doorway. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his eyes taking in how red and puffy hers were.   
“I’ve been better,” Ellie said slowly. She attempted a smile but found that her lips would not curl up.   
“Do you want me to ask if we can send you home?” Malcolm asked uneasily, he had noticed the semi-packed suitcase. Ellie nodded. 

***

Control Room

Henderson was yelling into a satellite phone as he watched the tropical storm worsen from inside the control room. The screens were flickering on and off and he could barely hear the voice on the other end of the line.   
“I need more time!” Henderson shouted. “I promise I can get your money by the end of the week!” The phone went dead. Henderson stared at the screen but there was no sign of power. Then he looked up at the computer screens. They too were dead. Power was failing all over the complex. Henderson reached over for his radio and turned it on. To his relief it crackled reassuringly.   
“What’s going on?” he called into the receiver, there was a brief crackle of white noise and then Peterson’s voice replied solemnly.   
“Sir we’ve lost power in the fences if we don’t get it back up soon we’re in deep shit. And I mean dino shit!”   
“How the fuck did that happen?!” Henderson raged. His face was purple, the veins in his forehead bulging hysterically.   
“It was the storm sir! The lightning must’ve short-circuited the power,” Peterson replied uncertainly.   
“What are you doing to get it back up and running?” Henderson replied in a voice of forced calm.   
“Smith’s gone to check out the main generator,” Peterson said immediately. “I’ve got radio contact with him.”  
“Good. Let me know when you get the power back!” Henderson said hotly. The radio fell silent. 

***

Smith

Smith pushed open the thick heavy metal door to the generator complex. The air was musty and smelled rank. Smith started to walk down the stairs, letting the metal door swing shut behind him. As he walked further into the depths of the complex, Smith did not notice the door fail to close. Something was preventing it. A clawed scaly foot. Smith continued to walk towards the generator controls. Behind him the reptilian foot nudged the main door wide enough to allow itself through. Smith was still oblivious to it all. He switched on his radio.  
“Peterson! Peterson! Are you there?” The dinosaur edged closer towards him, tiptoeing across the metal floor. Smith’s radio crackled and then Peterson’s voice filled the air.  
“All receiving, where are you?”   
“I’m at the generator controls, what do I do?” Smith asked urgently. Peterson was looking at a map of the complex, studying it thoroughly.   
“There should be a small metal box next to the generator. Open it.” Smith opened the box, revealing three switches. “You see the switches?” Peterson’s voice asked.   
“Affirmative,” Smith replied stoically.   
“Pull the top one to the left, the middle to the right and the bottom one to the left,” Peterson instructed him. “That should give the generator a boost. Then when it starts to hum, return the switches to their original position. Over.” Smith did as he was told, his heart pounding. He turned his head wildly looking up at the stairs behind him. He was imagining it, Smith told himself. There was no one else here but him. He turned back to the generator. It had started to hum nicely. The dinosaur was now clinging to the ceiling above him, its bright yellow eyes watching him with fascination. Smith flicked the switches back into their original position before replacing the metal casing. Beside him, the generator whirred into life, the humming becoming a gentle vibration as the complex was suddenly flooded with light. Smith clicked the radio on.   
“I’ve done it!” He called out excitedly!  
“Power is restoring,” Peterson’s voice told him delightedly. Smith opened his mouth to reply when all of a sudden the watching dinosaur pounced. It leapt onto his back, its claws piercing his back and forcing him to the ground, immobilising him. Smith’s radio fell to the floor and smashed as the dinosaur increased the pressure on top of him. He struggled to move, blood seeping from the gashes in his back. The dinosaur unexpectedly climbed off him. For one brief second, Smith thought he had been spared, but then the dinosaur flipped him over casually with one foot. Smith stared up into its scaly face. He could smell its putrid breath as it raised a claw and without mercy sliced him right across the middle. Warm blood washed over him and a strange sense of bliss entombed him as he felt his intestines drop to the floor. For all his fears of dying, Smith was surprised to find how calm he felt as the dinosaur’s claw came cascading across his stomach the other way, ripping it open further. His insides were spilling out all over the cold metal and he knew that it would all be over soon. The colour drained from his face and he began to feel sleepy. His eyes flickered open and shut. With the last vestiges of his strength he saw the dinosaur’s jaws cover his whole head and knew that when they snapped shut, his life would be extinguished. He did not have to wait another second. The jaws closed with terrifying power, fangs piercing his neck and in that moment, Timothy Smith was dead. The dinosaur shook his head in its jaws and with terrible strength it ripped it clean from the body. Discarding the head, the dinosaur bent down upon Smith’s lifeless body and began to eat him, tearing huge chunks of flesh with its teeth. Blood dripped from its fangs as it snarled grotesquely. 

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. Ninth Fraction

NINTH FRACTION

Control Room

It had been almost half an hour since they’d last heard from Smith and Peterson was beginning to look uneasy. The power in the facility had restored but Smith’s radio remained silent. He feared the worst.   
“It shouldn’t take this long to get back here,” Peterson said slowly, turning towards Henderson who was pale and sweaty.   
“Perhaps he got lost?” Henderson replied stupidly. It seemed to Peterson that Henderson was looking for any reason he could to shift the blame from the facility. As far as he was concerned, the whole place was falling down around them. That storm had cut off the power for too long. Far too long.   
“Smith knew this place like the back of his hand,” Peterson said. “We have to send out a search party.”   
“How many resources will that take?!” Henderson demanded. Peterson looked at Henderson and for the first time he saw not the billionaire scientist and businessman, but a rather small, pathetic man crumbling under the failure of his ideas.   
“Surely finding Smith is worth all our resources? This is a human life we’re talking about!” Henderson sighed.   
“I’m sure he’ll turn up.” Without another word Henderson swept out of the control room, leaving Peterson to glare after him. 

***

Grant

The rain had stopped pelting down at last but Alan Grant was still soaked to the bone. He shivered in the morning air but his only thought was to get back to the facility as soon as he could. If he stayed out here much longer....Grant didn’t like to think what would happen. He yawned and picked himself up off the ground. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the gate but knew that it would not open. He would have to find another way out of here. It was not going to be easy. With a heavy heart, Grant began to walk deeper into the heart of the compound. Everything was uneasily silent. 

***

Moody

James Moody lay in the sickbed, thinking. His legs seared with pain but otherwise he was quite comfortable now and was convinced that he could probably walk a little if the med-staff would let him. But that wasn’t what was crossing his mind. Moody had heard all the commotion over the storm. He knew the power had gone out, that the fences had gone down. He knew Smith had gone to sort it and that he had since not returned. Moody felt sure the facility was beginning to fall apart and he didn’t particularly want to be here when it finally collapsed.   
“You there!” Moody called out to the nearest person.   
“You want something?” they replied irritably.   
“I need to see Dr. Malcolm,” Moody said sternly.   
“I’ll see what I can do.” Moody returned to his thoughts. As far as he was concerned it wouldn’t be long before the entire facility was finally destroyed. Moody sighed irritably, for his injured leg still pained him greatly. He gazed out of the window nearest to his bed, watching the sunlight pour in. 

***

Henderson

Henderson was panicking. What remained of Smith had been found beside the bloodstained generator and it confirmed his worst fears. His dream was beginning to crash around him, his men were being injured, even dying and others were murmuring words of dissent. He wandered melancholically into the main laboratory. It was empty save for one scientist still doggedly determined to carry out Henderson’s work. As Henderson entered the lab, Dr. Howard glanced up from his experiments. Howard felt as bad as Henderson looked. The first thing he noticed was that there was no colour left in Henderson’s face. He looked deathly pale and drawn. As Henderson approached his desk, Howard was shocked to see how old his employer looked. There were lines around his eyes and constant stresses had taken their toll. It was Howard who spoke first.  
“I’ve carried out the final experiment-”  
“There’s no point,” Henderson cut across him sadly. Without looking at his chief scientist, Henderson was absentmindedly twirling test tubes between his fingers.   
“No but you don’t understand,” Howard attempted to relight a kindle of hope in Henderson. “I think I’ve found the key.”  
“Doesn’t matter. You should flee,” Henderson replied in a low voice. There was a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass; Henderson had let the test tube drop from his fingers. Howard didn’t like the tone of his voice, something in it told him that Henderson was being more than self-deprecating when he instructed him to flee.   
“What do you mean?” Howard asked tentatively. For the first time, Henderson looked up at him.   
“The facility is breached. Smith is dead.” Howard leant back in his chair and swore loudly. The news of Smith’s death came as a shock to him as the man he’d known had always been one to avoid serious trouble. Henderson’s hand was trembling, he was a spent man. Howard glanced at the syringe lying on his desk, then back up at Henderson. 

***

Malcolm and Moody

Moody looked up in discomfort as Malcolm entered the Med-Centre followed swiftly by Dr. Franco.   
“Do not overexert my patient!” Dr. Franco barked at Malcolm. Malcolm reassured him that he was only here to discuss a private matter with Moody and without another utterance, Dr. Franco retired to his office. Malcolm pulled up a chair by Moody’s bedside.   
“You called for me,” he said dryly. Moody coughed loudly, taking a huge gulp of water from the glass next to his bed.   
“What do you think of this facility?” Moody asked abruptly. Malcolm appeared briefly taken aback but regained his composure almost immediately.   
“Chaos theory dictates that it is a bomb waiting to go off,” Malcolm replied uncompromisingly.   
“Agreed,” Moody began cautiously. “How would you react if I told you that the bomb had already begun to tick?” Malcolm thought about this before replying.   
“I feared as much.”  
“There’s a rumour going round that Smith’s been killed. Y’know, one of the control room muppets.” The tone of Moody’s voice was not sympathetic to the dead man’s memory.   
“I knew him yes,” Malcolm said. “Events are moving as I predicted.”   
“Henderson’s lost it too,” Moody continued but this time there was genuine sadness in his remark as he reflected upon his old friend.   
“This project was always doomed to fail,” Malcolm said morosely.   
“Why did you come here?” Moody asked him curiously.   
“Being right all the time is a little wearisome.”   
“What do we do?” Moody pressed urgently.   
“We evacuate.” Moody nodded and then coughed again. Malcolm was watching his leg a with pessimistic look in his eyes. “Can you walk?” He asked. Moody didn’t reply. He threw the duvet off him and clambered unceremoniously out of the bed. His eyes scrunched up in pain as he drew himself up to his full height but after a few uncertain wobbles it seemed his legs were prepared to carry him. Malcolm put his arm round Moody’s shoulder and helped him limp from the Med-Centre. “Where shall we go first?” Malcolm asked uncertainly. He was glad Ellie had managed to get off the island already but it would be some time before they could recall the copter and even longer for it to get back here.   
“Main Laboratory, we need to speak to Henderson,” Moody said determinedly. Malcolm nodded. 

***  
Henderson

Henderson had his back to Howard who was still gazing at the sharp syringe lying on his desk. There were tears rolling down Henderson’s cheek as he destroyed the experiments still running in the lab. His life’s work was becoming undone and it was as if a part of him was being destroyed. Behind him Howard had picked up the syringe and was now walking menacingly towards him. Without warning the door to the laboratory swung open and in walked the unlikely duo of Malcolm and Moody. At the sight of his friend’s dishevelled state, Moody limped at once to his aid. He noticed the wrecked state of the lab with smashed glass and dead experiments littering the floor.   
“Richard,” Moody said gingerly, looking straight into his friend’s haunted eyes. “Richard listen to me, you need to give the order to evacuate the island. We have to get away...before it’s too late for all of us.” Henderson hesitated. He was far from the right state of mind to issue orders but he was still technically in command.   
“It’s too late James. Far too late. All we can do now is flee,” Henderson’s voice was becoming weaker and lacked any of the conviction he had once had.  
“Exactly,” Moody said sympathetically. “So give the order.” Henderson looked uneasy. His hands shook more than ever. Then out of the blue, he nodded. Howard had remained silent all the way through this exchange, still holding the syringe in his right hand. Moody embraced his friend warmly. “Thank you, now let’s get out of here.”   
“I’m staying...” Henderson said suddenly. Moody’s eyes widened in shock.   
“Don’t be absurd Richard!” Moody shouted.   
“James, this has all been because of me. Because of my own pointless ambition.”  
“If you stay here, you will die! What is there to gain from that?”   
“I deserve to die,” Henderson said morbidly.   
“Whatever you’ve done, whatever mistakes you’ve made, you’re my friend Richard and I will not let you die.” Henderson’s eyes were as if dead; all the light had gone from them. Moody had never seen his friend look so defeated. “Please, I don’t want to lose you,” Moody was pleading now. At last it seemed he had got through to Henderson.   
“Okay...” Henderson mumbled. Moody let out a sigh of relief and elation and hugged Henderson again. But the happiness was short-lived. Unbeknown by all three men, Howard was standing right behind Henderson and before Moody could shout out or do anything to stop him; Howard plunged the syringe into Henderson’s back. His work done, Howard fled from the lab. The syringe still sticking out of his back, Henderson collapsed to the floor and began to convulse horribly. Whatever had been in the syringe was now pulsating through his veins and it looked very much as if it wasn’t friendly to the human body. Malcolm stood back as Moody desperately tried to help his friend; he knew it was hopeless but didn’t have the heart to tell him. Henderson grabbed hold of Moody’s shirt desperately.   
“You have to make sure this place is destroyed,” Henderson gasped. “Promise me!”   
“I promise,” Moody said.   
“Everything...must...you have...” Henderson’s speech had collapsed into delirium; he was convulsing worse than ever now and blood streamed from the corners of his mouth. Tears were falling fast from Moody’s eyes as he realised that there was absolutely nothing to be done for his friend. Henderson grabbed hold of Moody’s hand and gripped it tightly. “I’m sorry,” he gargled and then his body went limp. He was dead. Moody closed Henderson’s eyes respectfully then looked up at Malcolm.  
“I swear, I swear I will find Howard and I will kill that fucking son of a whore!” Malcolm said nothing. Moody’s eyes were flashing with grief and rage whilst behind them Henderson’s body lay on the lab floor like a sock puppet. It seemed wrong that the scientist’s life should have ended in this way. For Malcolm, he had lost a colleague in the scientific world although they had not often seen eye to eye. For Moody, he had lost the greatest friend he’d had. Revenge was certain and Malcolm did not like the red flashes in Moody’s eyes. 

To Be Continued


	10. Tenth Fraction

TENTH FRACTION

Take out the leader, chaos will reign free... - Ian Malcolm

 

Howard

 

“Get a copter here now!” shouted Howard into his radio as he ran. He dared not look back, he had to keep on running. Time was running out; he had blood on his hands. A shadow streaked past the corner of his eye; Howard froze instantly. The shadow appeared to vanish and Howard breathed again. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, he told himself hopefully. He gazed at his hand and was shocked to see that he was trembling, shaking his head ruefully, Howard started to run once again. He tore through metal corridor after metal corridor, his feet clattering aggressively on the cold floor. Then he saw it. A flash of lightning illuminated the outside, highlighting a pair of bright yellow eyes. Watching him. Howard could feel a cold sweat breaking out all over his body as he saw the raptor following his movements. “Shit!” yelled Howard as he skidded to a halt, his path blocked by a large metal door. Wary of the raptor close behind, Howard fumbled for the handled and tried to wrench it open. To his horror the door was stuck. Howard feebly tried to open it again but there was no budging it. There was a crash of breaking glass behind him. He didn’t need to see to know the raptor was nearly upon him. Howard punched the door angrily succeeding only in breaking two of his fingers on the hard metal surface. “Fuck!” he cursed wildly, tears swimming in his eyes from the pain. He turned around, blinking and nursing his swollen hand. He could smell the putrid breath of the velociraptor perched in front of him, read to pounce. Howard couldn’t help wondering how ugly it looked as he gazed into its calculating face. For what seemed like ages there were no movements between the two animals, both just watched the other as though waiting to see who would strike first. Howard began to laugh. “You’re really quite pathetic aren’t you?” he said, his lips curling into a sarcastic smile. The attack came from nowhere. Howard was suddenly thrown off his feet by two more raptors suddenly appearing at his side. He hit the floor hard on his back. Groggily, Howard tried to beat the dinosaurs away with his hands and for a while it seemed like they might hold back but then the leader of the pack suddenly darted forward and in one swift movement of its jaw broke Howard’s arms at the elbow. Howard screamed in terror as the raptors pounced on him as one and began to tear into his flesh. He saw a flash of sharp claws lift him up to his feet and then felt something wet fall to the floor. He realised that his insides had just been ripped clean from his body. Howard collapsed to his knees. The last thing he saw before death took him was the cold glare of the first raptor’s eyes as its teeth sliced into his neck, tearing through the jugular. Warm blood flowed all over the metal floor as the raptors began to feast, squabbling amongst themselves. 

***

Grant 

Alan Grant could see a light shining through the torrential downpour that once again slammed into the island. Deciding it was his only hope, Grant began to make for the source of the light. He knew the fences had gone down now and that the compound had very likely been breached but he had to get back, he had to get to the others. If they were even still alive. He thought of Ellie and how he could never forgive himself if anything ever happened to her. How could he even live with himself knowing that it would be his fault if Charlie no longer had a mother? Grant shook himself and kept walking. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled warningly as he pushed his way through another clump of ferns. He could sense the animal watching him and wondered if it would strike. Grant pressed on tentatively. He looked over his shoulder, checking behind him for any other dinosaurs. Breathing heavily, Grant placed one foot forward then the other then the other, walking slowly and quietly so as not to arouse any more unwanted attention. The rain was still pelting aggressively at the ground. Every so often a flash of lightning illuminated the black sky, followed by a crack of thunder. Grant was soaked through, his clothes clinging to his skin but it did not bother him. Damp clothes were nothing if he could not make it out of this perilous situation. 

***

Malcolm & Moody

Ian Malcolm watched Moody carefully, studying his reactions and movements. The latter was silent, his face ghostly white as he stood over what was left of Howard.   
“Are you all right?” Malcolm asked quietly looking directly into Moody’s eyes. James Moody shrugged, then looked down at Howard and back up at Malcolm.   
“I don’t know, I guess I thought I’d feel different...” his voice trailed off into nothingness.  
“Come on we have to get out of here,” Malcolm told him firmly. “Or we’ll meet the same end.”   
“What is there to live for?” Malcolm did not like the tone of Moody’s voice, it was neither sad nor angry, it was just...empty. Devoid of emotion.  
“Come on,” Malcolm tried again. Moody still refused to move. The two men stared at each other. “Do you have any family back home?” Even as he said the words, Malcolm knew it was an odd question to suddenly ask but it was the only thing he could think to say that might get Moody to move. Moody looked momentarily stunned.   
“Yes...” he said softly. “My wife, my children.”   
“And are they not worth living for?” Malcolm pressed. “Wouldn’t you do anything to see them again?”  
“I don’t know...I guess...perhaps...but Henderson?” It seemed to Malcolm that Moody was beginning to grasp at survival again.   
“Forget Henderson-”  
“How can I forget my brother?” Moody cut across him. Malcolm’s eyes widened in surprise at this out of the blue revelation. Moody let out a deep sigh. “So the secret is out then.” Malcolm changed tact.  
“Richard would have wanted you to survive, to go back to your family,” Malcolm said. Moody sighed.   
“I guess,” he began uncertainly but before he could finish speaking there was a loud crash against the stuck metal door behind them. Malcolm and Moody froze instantly but their fear was short-lived as they heard someone cry out from the other side.   
“Grant?” Malcolm called out.   
“Ian?” came Grant’s echoey reply. “Listen Ian, can you get this bloody door open?”  
“It’s stuck fast,” Malcolm said morosely. “There’s no budging it.”   
“Hang on,” Grant called distinctively.   
“What’s he doing?” Moody asked quietly.   
“Heaven only knows,” replied Malcolm with a smile. “I’d step back if I were you,” he added. Moody edged away from the door, his heart pounding. They could hear Grant moving around behind the door loudly. His footsteps were quickening, getting louder and louder.   
“What’s he doing?” asked Moody bewilderedly?   
“I think he’s charging,” said Malcolm with a broad grin on his face. Seconds later they heard Grant’s shoulder collide with the door and watched in dawning delight as the door swung open at last. Grant rubbed his shoulder, grimacing.   
“I’m really glad that worked,” he said with a hollow laugh. Then he realised suddenly. “Where’s Ellie?”

***

Outside the Complex

The raptors snarled and spat at the newcomer as it made its presence known to them. Their teeth bared furiously but for some reason known only to themselves they held back from attacking. To the raptors’ bewilderment the mysterious animal walked right into the middle of their circle and suddenly keeled over. It appeared dead but still the raptors held back. Then the creature began to convulse, foam forming at its mouth. Moments later it lay still. The raptors all watched as though studying it and after about a minute, the creature stood up and shook its body like a dog shakes it fur after a hearty swim. The animal’s skin fell down in a heap as the raptors caught a glimpse of its red eyes for the first time. They sniffed the air menacingly and began to edge towards the outsider. It just stared at them as they drew closer and closer. At last the raptors could stand it no longer and one by one they began to pounce on the intruder. One by one they were dispatched. As each raptor pounced, the strange creature simply stepped out of the way at lightning speed and in the ensuing confusion sliced at the raptor with the claws on its forearms before the animal realised what had happened. The hunters had become the hunted. 

***

The Plan

The three men, led by Grant, moved through the compound nervously. They turned a corner and came to a stop beside a flight of stares that led up on to the second floor.   
“We need to get to the control room,” Malcolm said firmly.  
“I agree, they’ll have radios and phones up there,” Grant said without looking at Malcolm. Malcolm could tell Grant was angry with him.   
“Listen about Ellie...I’m sorry,” Malcolm whispered.   
“She’s safe. That’s all that matters,” Grant muttered back at him as they began to climb the stairs.   
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Malcolm hissed. Grant sighed.  
“It’s just...what if we don’t get out of this? I’ll never see her again.” Malcolm gazed at Grant.  
“You’re in love with her aren’t you?” Grant did not need to reply. “You’re going to see her again. Trust me.” Grant nodded uncertainly and continued to walk up the stairs. Behind them, Moody was uncomfortable silent. As they reached the top he piped up at last.   
“So what exactly are we going to do when we get to the control room?”  
“Use the radios to try to call for help.”   
“Oh.”   
“Come on.”   
“I’d turn left if I were you,” said Moody simply. Grant stared incredulously at him. “The control room,” Mood continued. “It’s that way,” he pointed down the left corridor. For a brief second there was silence then the three men burst out into loud laughter. There was a sudden loud crash that echoed not far from them. They looked at each other.  
“Run!” Terrified, the three men began to run down the left corridor; they could hear the animal charging behind them...

TO BE CONTINUED


	11. Eleventh Fraction

ELEVENTH FRACTION

“Protection will be found in the unlikeliest of sources while devastation will be found closer to home.” - Ian Malcolm 

Peterson

In the midsts of the chaos that was descending all around the facility, Peterson had barricaded himself inside the control room. The IT systems were going haywire, warning lights flashed all around but Peterson was frozen to the spot, unable to move and unable to speak. His mind was racing, any second he knew that one of those blasted animals would come careering through that door and he would be powerless to defend himself. Time was moving just as it always had; the facility was bathed in darkness, tinged with blood red on the horizon. Peterson remembered the last time he had left the control room, he had only just barely made it back...one of those wretched raptors had given chase, but Peterson had managed to outsmart it and now the disgusting creature lay dead on the other side of that door, its skull caved in by the deft blow of a rifle. He looked down at his hands, they were still dripping with the animal’s blood. It felt warm. The rifle lay discarded at his feet. The alarms were getting louder. Peterson glanced over at the nearest monitor, a message was flashing repeatedly on the screen, in huge striking red letters. 

WARNING!  
FACILITY INFILTRATED

Peterson ignored it. He knew perfectly well the security was compromised and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Yet still the monitors flashed and beeped angrily at him; his ears were beginning to ring from all the noise. He glanced up at the glass roof above him but he didn’t see the shadow that suddenly streaked across it. He didn’t spot the silhouette of a winged beast with snarling jaws and blood dripping from its fangs. Peterson looked back down at the floor, still unmoved from that same spot, while above him the mutated beast lay down across the glass, its wide eyes watching him intently...as though they were studying him.   
“Damn it all to hell!” Peterson yelled suddenly. Above him the mysterious beast had been so engrossed in its stalking that the sound of Peterson’s voice caused it to jump slightly. A small crack appeared in the glass.   
“How much further?” Voices could be heard approaching the control room.  
“Just round that corner,” Peterson thought he recognised the owner of the second voice.   
“Are you sure this plan is going to work?” said a third voice that Peterson was sure he should know but he couldn’t place it. The three men were approaching the control room and would soon be outside the door but Peterson didn’t feel like dismantling his barricade. What if they were being hunted themselves and they didn’t know it? If he opened that door for them, they might let in a pack of those ghastly thing. No, Peterson decided, he would not open the door. They would have to find something or somewhere else to save them. But what was this plan the third voice had spoken of? Peterson gave a hollow laugh. What use was a plan now? They were all going to die. Another crack appeared in the glass roof.   
“Shit what the hell was that?” the second voice said in a tone of shock and disgust! The owner of the voice had trodden on the corpse of the raptor. He retched loudly from the smell of it. “Bloody hell that’s disgusting,” he continued.   
“Is that the right door?” the third voice interjected quickly.   
“What...oh yeah, yeah.”   
“Don’t you think it would be better if we went inside?” There was a murmur of agreement and seconds later Peterson saw the door handle twist and push but to his relief the door remained stuck fast.   
“It’s jammed,” the first voice said irritably. “Is anyone in there?”   
“Peterson might be,” the second replied thoughtfully. “Hello!” he called out hopefully.   
“Keep your voice down,” the first voice hissed. Peterson listened to the three men bicker outside but he still made no effort to move. His eyes flicked up to the roof again but he couldn’t see the creature that moments earlier had been lying in plain sight. If his gaze had lasted just a few seconds longer, Peterson would have seen the glow of green eyes shining brightly out of a camouflaged body. More and more cracks were beginning to appear in the glass.   
“Stand back, I think I can break through,” said the first voice. Peterson took a step towards the door but in the next second he saw his barricade crumble away and the door fly open with a grunt from the man who had spoken. “Well, we made it,” sighed the voice of Alan Grant. He was nursing his shoulder gingerly. Behind him, Moody and Malcolm entered the room. 

The Plan

They stared at the dishevelled Peterson who hadn’t spoken a word since their arrival. He was trembling, his face white and gaunt with fear etched in his once proud eyes.   
“Daniel?” Moody said gently, looking directly at him. “Daniel are you alright?” Peterson shook his head slowly but still did not speak. “What happened?” With a shaking finger, Peterson pointed to the monitors, still flashing their cryptic warning.   
“We haven’t got much time,” Malcolm said. “Peterson where are the radios?” Peterson tilted his head to the far side of the room. Getting the hint, Malcolm nodded curtly and moved over to the radios. Grant followed him.   
“It’s gonna be okay,” Moody told Peterson. “Trust me.” Peterson opened his mouth to speak but then shut it. His mind was whirring but no words were forming.   
Over in the corner, Grant and Malcolm were engaged in frantic conversation. They were both testing the radios hurriedly as they spoke.  
“Do you think we’ll get out of this?”   
“I don’t know,” Malcolm muttered. His voice was full of a tone that Grant had rarely heard before. It was scared, but not because of the threat of death. It was because Malcolm had no idea what to do. The lack of that vital power, his mind, scared him far more than the increasing likelihood of being eaten alive did.   
“We’re not going to be safe here for much longer,” said Grant.   
“I agree,” Malcolm replied. He smacked the radio he was holding against the table and to his surprise the handset began to hiss with static. “What’s the channel?” he asked looking back at Grant.  
“A, frequency 265,” Grant said with a quick look at the chart on the wall. Malcolm nodded and began fiddling with the dials.   
“Come in, come in, this is MutaGen Industries, over,” Malcolm spoke into the receiver. There was a crackle of static.   
“This is US Embassy, Costa Rica, over,” said a stern female voice partially broken up over the radio.   
“Require assistance, urgent, over,” Malcolm continued.   
“What is your current situation? Over.”   
“Perilous, over,” Malcolm said with the tiniest hint of sarcasm in his voice. Grant frowned at him; now was not the time for joking around.   
“Please state your current situation, over,” the woman’s voice replied, sounding even sterner than before.   
Peterson had finally stopped trembling. Moody pulled up a seat and ushered him to sit down kindly.   
“You’ll be okay,” Moody was saying gently.   
“You don’t know that,” Peterson retorted. “None of us know what’s gonna happen.” Moody conceded this point. He tapped his finger on the closest monitor lightly. “Hang on,” said Peterson, gazing at the monitor.   
“What is it?” Moody asked concernedly.   
“That’s a new message,” Peterson responded in a low voice, pointing at the screen. Moody pulled himself off the desk and looked back at the screen. His eyes widened in surprise. 

WARNING!  
Control Room Infrastructure Compromised

The message was flashing repeatedly and as Moody and Peterson looked around the room they saw it appearing on every monitor.   
“Shit,” Moody said under his breath. “Malcolm, Grant!” he called out in a loud, urgent, voice.   
“What is it?” Came Grant’s reply; Malcolm was still busy with the radio.   
“I think we may have a problem,” said Moody dryly. Grant looked over to Moody, his eyebrows raised quizzically. His eyes followed the direction of Moody’s pointing finger towards the flashing warning.   
“Damn,” Grant muttered.   
“Trouble?” Malcolm asked.   
“Oh yes,” Grant replied.   
Peterson and Moody were both standing again, looking all around the room, nervously.   
“What could it be referring to?” Moody hissed at Peterson. Neither man could find any sign of damage in the walls and there were no sounds of any animals outside. Neither man realised where they should have been looking until it was too late.   
“Guys, I think it’s just a system malfunc-” Moody began but his voice was drowned out by the sudden crash of breaking glass as the roof above their heads collapsed. Shards of glass were raining from the sky, pelting every one of them as they dived under the desks to take cover. A petrified Peterson narrowly avoided being impaled by one of the metal beams as it came tearing down towards him.   
“It always gets worse doesn’t it,” Malcolm said to Grant.   
“Did you get the mayday through?” Malcolm thought for a moment before responding.  
“I think so.”  
“I guess we’ll just have to get to the helipad and see what happens,” Grant said, sighing. He peered through the rubble trying to ascertain where Peterson and Moody had gone. Something was nagging him inside his mind. That roof shouldn’t have collapsed like that. It would take enormous pressure...such as the weight of a large animal...the weight of a dinosaur. He looked back at Malcolm. “Don’t move a muscle,” he murmured. Behind Malcolm, a pair of pale green eyes were glowing. Malcolm froze. He could smell the creature, its putrid breath lingering over him. Grant edged towards him. “On my count, come to me,” Grant whispered. He was watching the creature intently. A memory came flooding back to him. This had to be the unknown creature listed on Peterson’s table. It all seemed a frightfully long time ago now. “One.” Malcolm’s arms twitched. “Two.” Malcolm began to hold his breath, anxiously. “Three.” With tremendous effort, Malcolm pushed himself towards Grant and away from the creature. The beast did not move. It continued to watch curiously, its wings fluttering slightly. Grant maintained his gaze on the creature, his curiosity still not sated. By now, Malcolm had managed to get beside Grant and he too was staring back at the creature.   
Careful to avoid the shards of glass, Moody crawled out from under the desk and clambered uncertainly to his feet. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dark and the smoke.   
“Daniel?” he called out, searching around desperately for Peterson. There was a spluttering cough a few feet behind him.   
“James?” Peterson’s hoarse voice replied.   
“Thank Christ you’re okay,” Moody replied with relief flooding over him. Peterson gave a shallow, nervous laugh.   
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m alive.” There was a sudden howl. “What was that?” Peterson said in a terrified whisper. Moody’s heart was pounding. What had that howl been? It sounded unlike anything he had ever heard.   
Grant and Malcolm watched as the animal gave another loud howl. For Malcolm, this noise was hideous and he wanted nothing more than to back away from it as far as he could. For Grant, the noise was infinitely interesting. It wasn’t a cry for help, it sounded somehow peaceful, as though the creature was trying to communicate with them. The two men didn’t notice the approaching footsteps of Peterson behind the creature. It howled again. Grant was struck by the peculiarity of it. They had been alone with this creature for some time and it had made no effort to attack them or do anything other than observe and howl. Peterson was nearly upon it now but Grant’s concentration was firmly fixed upon the animal. The howl was definitely peaceful, the animal was attempting to reach out to them. It hadn’t been stalking them, it had wanted to protect them. Grant reached out his hand to pet the animal. He wasn’t sure why he risked it; something in his mind told him it would be okay. Feeling tense, Grant’s hand touched the scaly but warm head of the animal. It purred.   
“You want to help us don’t you?” He murmured gently. The animal let out a sigh that was almost uncannily like agreement.   
“Made a new friend have you?” Malcolm muttered under his breath.   
“It’s trying to protect us,” Grant whispered back.   
“How do you know?”  
“Just listen to it.” Malcolm fell silent, listening to the sounds the animal made just as Grant had instructed. At first he couldn’t place what Grant was referring to but then he heard it. The gentle soothing hidden in the high-pitched howl.   
“Amazing,” he said softly. The animal let out a sudden yelp. Grant and Malcolm looked up to see Peterson towering over it. He was carrying the rifle.  
“What are you doing?” Grant said angrily.   
“Saving our lives,” Peterson replied with a grimace. Before either Grant or Malcolm could say another word, Peterson jammed the butt of the rifle into the animal’s head as hard as he could. The animal screamed in agony, its tail thrashing and wings flickering.   
“What the hell have you done?” Malcolm shouted.   
“Aren’t you gonna thank me?” Peterson replied. This response was not what he had expected. The animal was bleeding, still screaming, still thrashing.   
“Thank you?” Grant repeated incredulously. “You may have just ruined everything!” The animal was howling again, but it wasn’t the peaceful, friendly howl they had heard before. This was something new. A war cry. Peterson stepped back from the creature, still holding the rifle in his hands. He raised his arm to strike again but the animal bellowed, causing the whole room to shake wildly. Taken by surprise, Peterson dropped the rifle with a loud clatter. Malcolm let out a bloodcurdling scream. Smoke was billowing from the end of the rifle as it pointed directly at Malcolm’s leg. 

TO BE CONTINUED


	12. CHAPTER TWELVE

TWELFTH FRACTION

“Nature does not forgive your sins,” - Ian Malcolm 

Malcolm, Moody, Peterson, Grant

Malcolm groaned in agony as the blood from the wound seeped out of his leg.   
“I never have much bloody luck with my legs on these damn islands,” he remarked dispassionately.   
Grant ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt and bent over Malcolm’s leg. He wrapped the fabric around the wound and tied it tightly to stem the blood flow. Peterson was shaking. The animal, still howling its terrifying war cry was gazing at them all with dispassionate, hunting eyes.   
“You idiot,” snarled Moody angrily. “You could have killed us all, you still might!” James Moody was glaring at Peterson with none of the warm glow he’d had before. “And if Malcolm dies, I swear to you, I’ll have you on a murder charge.”   
“This isn’t the time,” Grant said softly, eyeing the creature with scared fascination. “Ian, how bad is it?” Malcolm laughed, a painful, hollow laugh.   
“I don’t think I’ll be walking any time soon,” he said dryly.   
“We have to leave him behind!” Peterson declared suddenly. “He’ll slow us down.” Peterson was still trembling uncontrollably, a nervous twitch developing in his right eye as he looked down on Malcolm’s bloodied leg.   
“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” Grant said firmly. He turned to Moody. “James, are there any jeeps left in one of the garages?” Moody screwed his face up in concentration, trying to recall. Malcolm shifted his gaze to the creature who was still watching them intently. He coughed suddenly as pain shot through his leg.   
“There might be one,” Moody said after a thoughtful pause. “I can’t promise anything though.”   
“We can’t stay here,” Grant decided, his senses tingling him. Peterson’s eyes flashed.  
“I’m telling you, if we drag Malcolm along, we’ll all die!” Malcolm let out a small groan of pain again as he cocked his head so he could still hear Peterson. “What’s the point of sacrificing all our lives?”   
“We’re all going to die if we stay here bickering. We have to get to that helipad now!” Moody’s voice was forceful as he looked straight at Peterson. Grant cleared his throat.   
“Peterson, you go down and check if there’s a jeep available. Moody and I will help Malcolm.” Peterson looked for a moment as if he was about to argue further but he just closed his mouth and nodded meekly, his face pale as a ghost. He bent down to pick up his discarded rifle but Malcolm kicked it away with his good leg.  
“I don’t think so,” he spluttered determinedly. Peterson glowered but turned away and made his way to the door. As soon as he was gone, Moody glanced at Grant.   
“Do you think he’ll wait for us?”   
“I don’t know,” replied Grant. “He’s scared.”  
“We’re all scared,” Moody shot back.   
“I know. Come on,” he jerked his neck towards where Malcolm lay, pale and sweaty. “How’s that tourniquet holding?”   
“Keeping me alive,” Malcolm said with a dark smile.   
“Grant, Malcolm?” Moody called out unexpectedly, his voice anxious. He was pointing at where the creature had been watching them only moments before. “Did any of you see where it went?” Grant looked and immediately realised what Moody was getting at.   
“It must have followed him,” Grant said. “Damn!” 

Peterson

Peterson walked gingerly out of the control room, taking care to create as little noise as possible. His fast-beating heart was thumping loudly in his chest as he turned a corner and carried on towards the stairs. Everything was deathly quiet. Too quiet. Peterson shuddered. In his mind’s eye he pictured scenario after scenario of sudden terrifying attacks that would tear him apart. The stairs creaked as he walked carefully down, holding onto the railing and taking it one step at a time. The further down he got, the faster his heart beat; it was pounding against his chest.   
“Concentrate,” he muttered under his breath to himself. He needed to find that jeep and quickly. But what if those creatures were waiting for him? Peterson shook his head. No, they couldn’t be, he thought; he would get to the garage find the jeep and at last he would be safe. Safe. That was a laugh. Peterson didn’t think he’d been safe for a very long time. “Damn you Henderson,” he cursed softly. Daniel Peterson wished he had never met Henderson, never agreed to come to this wretched island and above all he wished he could get off it alive. “Ugh,” Peterson cried out suddenly before he could stop himself as his foot trod on something warm and squishy in the dark. He looked down nervously. To his horror, the warm squishy thing was not a thing at all. It was the remains of a former worker at the facility, his belly torn open and his entrails hanging out uselessly. Half his face had been torn away, eaten, Peterson presumed. As he studied the body, Peterson noticed that the man’s right leg had been savagely torn off at the knee joint. He felt a wretch in his stomach. “You poor bastard,” he said in a whisper.   
He remembered his cry of surprise. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Peterson stepped over the mangled corpse and carried on walking down the corridor. There was a creak of metal behind him, yet Peterson did not hear for the creature that made the noise was pursuing him as quietly as the wind. When the creature reached the corpse, festering in its own blood, it stopped to glower down at it. Overcome by hunger, the creature bent its neck down and opened its jaws. It tore huge strips of flesh from the dead man’s chest, chewing them hard and swallowing quickly. The creatures insides flared. It had discovered a taste for human flesh. The mutated abomination lowered its neck again and tore off more strips of blood red meat. As it ate, the creature could feel itself growing as though the meat had triggered something in its DNA.   
Peterson’s pace quickened. The corpse had reminded him of the animals lurking in the shadows. He had to find that jeep! 

Grant, Malcolm, Moody

Grant helped Malcolm to his feet and supported him between Moody and himself. Malcolm groaned groggily; he was beginning to fade.   
“You know what I could really use right now?” Malcolm mumbled slowly as they hobbled towards the door, taking care to avoid the carnage that lay all around. “Some powerful drugs.” Malcolm coughed viciously.   
“Sorry Ian,” Grant said solemnly as they stepped slowly out of the control room and onto the darkened corridor. The ceiling lights were flashing and sparking, barely giving off enough illumination to light their way. Each step they took echoed but no sounds answered. They were alone.  
“Peterson better have waited for us,” Moody growled. Malcolm laughed hollowly but stopped suddenly as pain shot through his chest.   
“I guess we’ll find out,” Grant said, his eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s this way right?” He asked Moody, pointing down the left corridor. Moody nodded. “We keep going then.” They all agreed silently.   
The three men walked painfully slowly down the stairs, following the path that Peterson had taken minutes before them. They came across the corpse, although it was now nothing more than a pile of discarded, but chewed, bones and a pool of blood. Malcolm wrinkled his nose.   
“Messy bastards aren’t they dinosaurs,” he chuckled. They lifted their legs over the mess and continued on by. Grant’s mind was uneasy. The silence unnerved him.   
“I think we better get to the garage as quick as we can,” he muttered anxiously. Moody and Malcolm both inclined their heads in agreement. They quickened their pace as much as they could, with Malcolm still hobbling between them on his one good leg.   
“This way,” Moody observed, indicating the stairs in front of them. 

Peterson 

Peterson sat waiting in the jeep, his chest heaving up and down as he breathed heavily. That creature had been following him, he knew it. He had heard it growling behind him as he approached the garage doors. Panicking, Peterson had opened the door as closely as he could, slipped inside and slammed it shut. For a few minutes he had just stood against the metal wall, his eyes shut but when the creature did not make another sound, he opened them. To his delight, the jeep had been sat there, waiting for him, just as Moody had hoped. He sat in it now, wondering why he hadn’t opened the main doors and driven away to safety. What safety? Peterson laughed one of those cracked, fragile laughs. Then he heard it again, the horrific growl of the creature that hunted him. His heart skipped a beat.   
“Hurry up,” he murmured under his breath. “I can’t wait for you forever.” The time ticked on by as Peterson panicked more. The growl had been closer, he felt sure of it. Maybe it had picked up his scent. He shivered, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. “Hurry the fuck up!” He fumbled for the keys in the glove compartment and pointed them at the main doors. Shaking, his fingers barely closed around the right button but his heart lifted as the doors began to open slowly, their mechanics grinding. “Right where’s the ignition.” More fumbling with the keys; his hands had become so sweaty with fear that they kept falling to the floor beside his feet. He twisted the key and the engine roared to life just as the door behind him opened. Peterson didn’t stop to check. He slammed the handbrake down and began to drive out of the garage.   
“Peterson!” Moody shouted after him but to no avail. The jeep was gone. 

Moody, Malcolm, Grant

“Damn him!” Moody’s eyes flashed furiously. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted him!” Grant shook his head.  
“He was scared.”  
“So am I!”  
“Guys?” Malcolm said softly. “I think we have company.” Malcolm was pointing up at the roof. Grant and Moody gazed up and terror glazed over their hearts.   
“Raptors,” Grant spoke quietly.   
“They’re not looking at us,” Moody said pointedly.   
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Malcolm said as a raptor turned its head towards them.   
“I think we need to distract the-” Grant began but his mouth fell suddenly open as the raptors all turned tail and fled. The answer to the mystery arrived shortly as the creature came stomping into view behind them, flapping its noticeably larger wings in aggravation. “Now that’s interesting,” Grant said in wonder. He studied the creature with fascination.   
“I’m more concerned about how pissed off she looks,” Malcolm replied.   
“I think we should get moving,” Moody agreed. Grant held up a hand to stop them.   
“Wait. She’s ignoring us,” Grant murmured. Sure enough, the creature stepped past them without giving them so much as a backwards glance.  
“She’s tracking the jeep,” Moody said in shock. Grant frowned.  
“How far is the helipad from here?”   
“About ten minutes by jeep,” Moody replied.   
“And on foot?”  
“Half hour. With Malcolm probably an hour,” Moody said, the disappointment clear in his voice.   
“I’m not sure if I have an hour,” Malcolm interjected. He was sweating profusely, his face white with a tinge of green.   
“We have to get going now,” Grant said. 

Peterson

Peterson accelerated, the jeeps wheels skidding through the sticky damp mud. He felt terrible for leaving them behind but he had panicked. As the door had opened, Peterson had feared it was that creature coming to get him. But when he had looked behind he had seen them standing there. He wanted to go back but he couldn’t. He had to get to the helipad. Maybe the copter would circle the island and pick them up, if they were still alive. He felt sick at the thought of what that creature might do to them. The jeep rode over a tree stump in the road, jerked heavily and nearly rolled over as Peterson made a desperate turn on the wheel.   
“Shit!” He wiped his forehead. “That was too close.” A nasty thought hit him out of the blue. He couldn’t remember the road to the helipad. What if he was going the wrong way? He stared out the left window in an attempt to get his bearings. He only took his eye off the road for a second. As he looked back, he saw the fence approaching, he tried to swerve but it was too close. With a terrific crunch of metal on metal, the jeep tore through the fence and flipped over and over before landing upright and throwing Peterson out onto the cold mud. He spat out a mouthful of dirt. The howl came suddenly. Peterson looked all around. Nothing. Then he stared up at the sky and his heart sunk to his feet. The creature was in the sky. It was flying! The creature flapped its wings and began to swoop down towards him. Peterson didn’t wait. He ran. 

Malcolm, Moody, Grant

They had hobbled a long way in just ten minutes; Malcolm was determined not to slow them down.   
“What’s that?” Grant said, spotting the glow of Peterson’s headlights in the distance.   
“Let’s check it out,” Moody said, his senses tingled. They kept walking. After about five minutes they came across the jeep, abandoned, merely feet away from where it had torn through the facility fence.   
“Where’s Peterson?” Grant wondered aloud.   
“He must have run,” Moody said. “Wait here,” he instructed Grant. “I’ll see if it still drives okay.” He bent out from under Malcolm’s grip and jogged over the fence towards the jeep. Grant grabbed hold of Malcolm, struggling to keep him standing. Moments later the engine roared to life and Moody, with a cheer, began to reverse it, taking care to get it through the helpfully jeep sized tear in the fence.   
“Help me get Malcolm on the back seat,” Grant said as Moody pulled the jeep up beside them. The engine still running, Moody climbed out of the jeep and assisted Grant as they pulled Malcolm up on to the jeep. Their task complete, they clambered into the front seats and within moments they were driving away towards the helipad, their spirits lifted slightly. Only Grant wondered what had happened to Peterson. They could hear the rumble of a helicopter landing and Moody slammed on the accelerator... 

Peterson

Peterson sprinted through the torrential rain. He could hear the beast roaring, it was almost upon him. He would never outrun it, he thought in desperation as he slid through soft squelching mud. It roared again, he could smell the putrid breath. He threw himself behind a tree and knelt in the cold wet dirt. His heart thumped. He was sweating, terrified and alone. He shook so loud he felt sure the beast would hear him. The smell of its breath became stronger. Peterson opened his eyes. It had found him at last. After an agonising pause, Peterson felt the sharp jaws enclosing around his body, digging into the soft flesh. In a few moments it would all be over. He felt his blood seeping out of him, felt the flesh hanging off as the creature ate him slowly. In just a few minutes the light went out in his eyes and Daniel Peterson was dead to the world. The creature swallowed, Peterson’s blood dripping from its jaws. There was a sudden shriek, carried out across the sky. The creature answered, flapping its wings and flying off in the sound’s direction. 

EPILOGUE

“Man will always forget the lessons it has learned in the past,” - Ian Malcolm

Grant stared up at the small man glaring in front of him.   
“You asked me what I was doing on that island?” He said, choosing his words carefully. The small man nodded, his lips going thin beneath his tiny moustache. The top of his head was bald and he had small piggy eyes. “Very simple, I was lied to,” Grant announced. The inquiry did not react.   
“You knew what the company, MutaGen Industries, was up to?” The small man pressed on.   
“Henderson told me his company had potentially found a cure for cancer and he wanted my colleague and I to observe his efforts,” Grant said without blinking.  
“You now know this to be incorrect?”  
“Yes,” Grant nodded.   
“Are you aware of the number of lives lost during this escapade?”   
“Yes,” Grant nodded again.   
“What of Ian Malcolm?” The small man frowned, his caterpillar like eyebrows inclining downwards.   
“Last I heard, Ian Malcolm was recovering well,” Malcolm said with a dry laugh.  
“This is not a laughing matter Mr. Malcolm,” the small man spat angrily.  
“No, but this inquiry is,” Malcolm shot back irritably.   
“This inquiry is trying to figure out what happened on that island.”   
“You don’t need to find out what happened on that island, you need to burn it to the ground, wipe out everything InGen and MutaGen and all those idiots have done, for good.” Malcolm’s eyes were wide, determined.   
“I was led to believe that we were working for the greater good,” Moody said solemnly as the inquiry turned to him.   
“You knew Henderson well?”  
“Yes, he was a friend of mine for a long time.”   
“You saw no reason to question him?”  
“No.”   
“You say there were mutations in the dinosaur gene?” The small man asked Grant.   
“Yes, whatever chemical they were injecting the embryos with was causing the genes to mutate. It eventually led to the creation of a new species.”  
“Malcolm says the island should be incinerated, what are your thoughts on this matter Dr. Grant?”   
“I can’t see any other choice,” Grant replied. His heart felt heavy but he knew there was no other way. Those animals could not be allowed to get to the mainland. But that creature could fly...  
“We have to destroy them,” Moody said, looking at the inquiry with a straight face.   
“Dr. Sattler, you left the island before the others, tell us what you saw.” Ellie gulped, her stomach tied in knots...

Moody, Malcolm, Ellie and Grant all rose to their feet along with the rest of the inquiry as the woman leading it entered the room.  
“Be seated,” the woman said. They sat. “My decision has been made,” she said after a long, thoughtful pause. “The island and everything on it will be preserved. They may be dangerous creatures but they are still living breathing animals, rare and for that reason they should be protected.” Moody, Malcolm, Ellie and Grant gave each other dark looks. “We are adjourned.” 

“You were never going to convince them,” Ellie told Grant.   
“I know,” he replied with a heavy sigh. They looked out across the Costa Rican beach. In the distance, they could see the shadows of Isla Nublar, Isla Sorna and the other islands rising out of the ocean. 

THE END


End file.
